The Third Crown Piece
by Ya Nefer Ma'at
Summary: Prince Nuada finally tracks down the human guardian of the third crown piece. In attempting to reclaim the third crown piece, Nuada sets events in motion that reunite him with his family and turn him away from open war with mankind. The cover image "Sight Unseen" is by GabhMoLeithsceal, and is used with her permission.
1. The Hunt

Disclaimer:

Prince Nuada, Princess Nuala, King Balor and all the magical folk are the property of Guillermo del Toro and those who own _Hellboy II, the Golden Army_. No infringement is intended.

Synopsis:

Prince Nuada finally tracks down the human guardian of the third crown piece. In attempting to reclaim the third crown piece, Nuada sets events in motion that reunite him with his family and turn him away from open war with mankind. Please note that this story diverges from the events of _Hellboy II _before Nuada breaks the treaty and involves Hellboy and his colleagues in the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence (hence, Hellboy and his colleagues are not even in this story). The story is rated "M" for violence and adult situations.

Acknowledgments and Author's Note:

Thanks must go to Guillermo del Toro and his team for creating the magical world portrayed in _Hellboy II_, and to Luke Goss and the other actors and everyone else who brought the characters to life with such brilliant success. Please take this fanfiction as a compliment, that your work inspired such excitement in your fans.

My heartfelt thanks go to Gabby (GabhMoLeithsceal) for giving me permission to use her amazing portrait of Nuada, _Sight Unseen_, as the cover image for _The Third Crown Piece_. Gabby and Robyn-666 are the driving force behind Hidden Realm Entertainment, a campaign to return Nuada to the silver screen. If you haven't already done so, sign the Hidden Realm petition which asks Guillermo del Toro to do another movie with Nuada. The petition is at the Hidden Realms website. Gabby's extensive gallery of amazing Nuada fanart is on the Hidden Realm website as well as at DeviantArt – I highly recommend her work.

Elements of this story were inspired by "Saving Nuada", by Gwenfarr. Thanks for your very enjoyable story about our favourite elf! The Third Crown Piece was greatly improved by my amazing sister, Sylvia Volk – thanks for your feedback and for discussing the ideas with me. Thanks also for allowing me to use the lovely names you made up, Nightimmering and L'oro Leste. "Caoimhe" is a traditional Celtic Irish name, pronounced "Keeva", if I understand the "Baby Names of Ireland" website correctly. It means "gentle, beautiful, precious".

The Third Crown Piece

Chapter 1: The Hunt

Prince Nuada's head came up abruptly, his golden eyes wide and his face enraged. His focus was distant to the darkness of his subterranean home, as he saw through his sister Nuala's eyes.

_A human in the royal council chambers? A human daring to stand in the same room as his noble father, his lovely sister?_

Nuada ground his teeth savagely, his white fists clenching, wishing he was there. He knew of course from market gossip that a human had actually requested an audience, and in the elfin fashion, but never in a hundred lifetimes would he have thought that his father would grant the human's request! Was there _any_ demand that his royal father would now deny mankind? Nuada paced impotently, furious that such a thing should come to pass, that he was not there to stop it. He would make the human beg for death, for daring to approach his father.

He watched through his sister's eyes as the blindfolded human was led forward. When the guard controlling her demanded that she kneel before King Balor, she sank fluidly to the floor without hesitation, respectfully silent.

"You may rise," his father ruled, leaning forward in his chair and studying the woman intently.

She stood, clasping her hands quietly across her belly. The emotions flickering over her face suggested that she was experiencing warring waves of elation and nerves.

"Speak."

She took a deep breath. "T-thank you, Highness, for allowing me to address you."

Both her courtesy and her use of Elfin surprised Nuada. Most humans had forgotten the language of elves, as they had forgotten that they shared the earth with magical folk.

"Majesty, I am a descendant of the human king to whom you entrusted a fragment of the Royal Crown of Bethmoora. I seek your counsel."

"You are the Guardian of the crown piece?" Nuada's father asked, his gaze unwavering.

"I am." The human spoke softly but clearly, a quick heave of her chest betraying the anxiety she felt in admitting this before the elfin court. The elves around her moved restlessly, speaking quickly among themselves.

Nuada was all the more enraged, but exhilarated too: for millennia he had hunted the human thieves who had the crown piece, but they had always been hidden from him. He had sensed his father's hand in the enchantment behind that, and had been deeply wounded by it. No longer... the human had revealed herself to him, and no magic of his father's could now stop Nuada from running her to the ground and reclaiming what her ancestor should never have been given.

King Balor smiled slowly, his good hand dropping to caress the crown fragment at his belt. He stared down at the human, listening carefully, though Nuada couldn't see anyone talking. Balor nodded decisively. "Guardian, We will provide you with Our counsel," he said, cocking his head and standing, surprising his guards and subjects alike. "Bring her." He turned away, heading out of the main hall and to the smaller, more intimate rooms beyond.

Nuala hurried to follow him, but as he came to the arched entrance of a lovely garden, he turned and stopped her. "No, my daughter. I will see this human alone. All of you, stay here."

As Balor spoke, Nuala gasped, grasping her crown fragment, while the human's hands tightened over her abdomen and she smiled radiantly. Balor nodded at Nuala with shared comprehension, touching his own crown fragment.

Puzzled, Nuada pushed a bit harder at the bond he shared with his twin sister. What he next discovered caused him to become very still, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Nuala had just realised that the crown piece on her glittering holder was talking to the crown piece in the human before them, and that the human carried the fragment within her, protected inside her own flesh and muscle! She had actually brought it to the royal hall. All Nuada needed to do was go there, slice her open and lift it from her dying body!

Balor gently took the human's hand, carefully leading her into the beauty beyond. Nuala watched anxiously as her father directed the quiet woman to the center of the garden, stopping her under a canopy of fragrant flowers. He must have commanded her to stand, for she remained a living statue, her hands quietly clasped over the crown fragment within her. She shone with a humble strength. Balor walked slowly around her, studying her. Her lips were moving; she must have been asking him whatever it was that she came to ask, but she was too far away for Nuala to hear. Balor's expression gave no clues as to the human's words. Nuada made a snarling sound, wishing to have the human's vulnerable neck under his fingers, imaging the life draining from her empty eyes as he strangled her for her temerity.

Still Balor moved restlessly around her. Finally, when she had fallen silent, he came to rest directly before her. He made a command too quiet for his court to hear. Frowning, the woman raised one hand obediently. King Balor entwined his fingers with hers, their palms together. She stiffened with a gasp. Even from their distance, his audience could see how the human blanched as he entered her mind, then a wave of red mounted her cheeks and she took a deep breath, her expression an odd mixture of joy and shame.

Nuada couldn't believe what his sister was seeing! His royal father, linking his mind with human filth, allowing her festering body to touch his noble flesh! Nuada couldn't stand idle any more. He would _not_ allow this to continue! Even as he moved out into the labyrinth surrounding his subterranean home, he saw through Nuala's eyes as his father released the human, circling her until he was behind her, his good hand slipping firmly over her belly, to cover the crown piece within her. She moved sharply, her fists clenching, but she allowed his contact. He stood thus for a handful of heartbeats, his lips moving but his words too soft for Nuala to hear, then circled the human again. He stopped before her, gently taking her face in his hands, appearing to bless her before placing a kiss on her forehead. Nuada almost stumbled in disbelief at this. _A human! _Next, magic shrouded his father and the human, surrounding them in fire and power. When the flames died, his father was alone, stepping away from a statue of a human woman, frozen in red and gold opal.

Nuada ground to a halt, his heart on fire with rage. His father would have known that he saw through his sister's eyes, that he would seek the human guardian with all his fury and hunger for justice. And King Balor had neatly complicated his hunt – the woman might be encased in glowing stone, the crown piece still within her, but Nuada doubted this very much. More likely that his royal father used his magical powers to send the human away, out of Nuada's reach. Nuada snorted. Not for long. He knew of her now. Not her name, but her face and her psychic scent, her essence. He was nothing if not persistent. It was only a matter of time before he had her, before that piece of the Royal Crown of Bethmoora was his, and he would raise his people and the Golden Army alike, to reclaim their birthright.


	2. Cornered and Captured

Chapter 2: Cornered and Captured

Caoimhe McKenna tossed her keys into the bowl by the door with a sigh, glad to be back from a long month in Ethiopia. It was past midnight. She swung her backpack onto the floor in the entrance hall and stepped away, rolling her tired shoulders.

She had been in Ethiopia to destroy the fragment of the Royal Crown of Bethmoora, entrusted to her family by the Elf King, at the time of the Treaty. Caoimhe, together with her family, had grown dismayed at the behaviour of their fellow humans. The Treaty was clearly forgotten by the majority, and humans were violating it in their greed and ignorance. Worse, whispers had come to the family that certain human factions who still recalled the Children of the Forest coveted the fragment, seeking dominion over the Elf Kingdom and their magical allies through some devilry centred on it.

It was this revelation that had spurred Caoimhe to seek an audience with King Balor. Or, to be more honest, had spurred the crown fragment to whisper to her that she must request the audience. Caoimhe couldn't change the way humans all over the world were destroying the environment and endangering other species, but she could and would do all in her power to protect the Treaty. The fragment had known what to do. As directed, she had gone to the woods each full moon, singing her request in ancient melody and words. She felt the power of the crown fragment within her body each time she sang, but despaired of receiving an answer.

But answer the elves had. As Caoimhe had stood in a clearing bathed in moonlight, the final notes of the song hanging in the air, a voice behind her had informed her that His Majesty King Balor would grant her an audience. She had almost jumped out of her skin! The voice instructed her not to move, and to close her eyes. She didn't hear the other come up behind her, but a blindfold was secured over her eyes, and she was unceremoniously pulled along by a very strong hand. She became aware of others around her. She kept her tongue, puzzled as the night wind disappeared and the air changed. She was no longer in the wood, but where they had taken her, she had not known.

And so, she came into the presence of the Elf King. He had not surprised her with his kindness, despite the stories passed down in her family which painted him as a cunning warrior, very much to be feared – her crown fragment knew better, and so of course, did she. His counsel had led her to travel to the Lake of Fire in Ethiopia, where the fragment had asked to be destroyed. She could still see it sinking into the lava, sparkling like a star, fading and dying, singing hauntingly as it melted and the magic within was released. She had wept as this happened. She knew that a part of her had died that day, and that she would never be whole again, but she was surprised at how peaceful she felt. She suspected that the crown piece had bestowed this serenity on her, as a parting gift.

Having dutifully called her mother and reported her safe return, Caoimhe lit candles in the front room, smiling to be back in her much loved home. She crossed to the front windows, enjoying the light of the moon on the winter beauty outside. She lived in a former game keeper's lodge on her family's ancestral lands, nestled between an extensive wood and the pastures of their horse stud, in the green heart of Ireland. She loved being so close to nature. It seemed to touch an ancient chord within, from the days before urbanisation and all pervasive technology. Her vantage point showed her undulating pastures frosted with diamonds, where fatly pregnant mares grazed peacefully. Caoimhe smiled, feeling the stresses of the trip slip away as she enjoyed the sight, thinking happily about how she would bring her dogs home in the morning.

A flicker of movement behind her reflection caught her attention. Startled, Caoimhe whipped around. Her heart seemed to freeze as she met the gaze of a tall, pale elf, his golden eyes burning within the darkness of his lids, his black mouth thin, his white skin and silver blond hair glowing in the candle and moonlight. He was beautifully dressed in flowing, archaic robes, the splendid royal seal of Bethmoora over his flat belly. She'd never met this man before, and yet, there was no doubt in her heart that she was facing Prince Nuada, Silverlance, Heir of the Kingdom of Bethmoora – beloved of her crown piece.

Caoimhe reacted as the crown piece would react: her face lit up as she met his eyes; she put her hand out to him without thinking. Next, she faltered as fury flared on his white face, and she realised her presumption. All the tales her crown piece had told her of Nuada's lethal talents and his consuming hatred for mankind came rushing back to her.

Unnerved, Caoimhe stumbled back as he slowly approached, his steps measured and eloquent of muscular power. Nuada stopped pointedly within striking distance, towering over the diminutive woman, scowling down at her. She stared up at him, experiencing an uneasy mixture of bliss at being with one her crown piece loved above all others, and fear of what he might do. She valued him as greatly as her crown piece had, but what value did he have for her? To him, she was but the enemy, to be summarily dispatched.

Caoimhe knew what Nuada sought, as surely as she knew how furious he would be once her actions came to light. Thank God that she had already destroyed the crown piece! She steadied herself with a quick breath, reminding herself of her duty and her sacred trust. The Truce with the Children of the Forest _must_ be upheld. If she was to be sacrificed so that peace would persevere, then so be it. She only hoped that she could welcome death with dignity.

She watched as his armour-clad chest heaved, evidence of the depth of his emotion. She could practically feel the hatred and anger radiating from him. She realised that if she couldn't somehow diffuse the situation, he would simply lash out at her, as he would at any human who was unlucky enough to cross his path. Or lucky enough – just being with him made her spirits soar, even if she was in mortal danger. How could she reach the sharp intellect and deeply moral elf behind the burden of anger and pain? The crown piece had shown her that courtesy was critical in meeting the Elf King… perhaps courtesy would help her with the Elf Prince? Should she kneel before him, as she had been directed to kneel before his father? No, he was standing too close now – she had missed her chance. What if she welcomed him to her house? She marshalled her courage.

Caoimhe hesitantly gestured toward the couch and chairs behind him. "H-highness, would you care to be seated?" she invited in Elfin, forcing herself to radiate a gentle serenity as she politely met his burning gaze. She calmly expanded the gesture to include a series of bottles on the side board. "May I offer you refreshment, Your Highness? Whiskey, perhaps?"

Nuada stared down at her incredulously, his thin lips becoming thinner. With a movement so quick that she couldn't track him, he drew a sword, flashing it around and placing the flat edge very precisely against her throat. Caoimhe jumped with a sharp gasp.

"Or- or whatever you prefer, Highness! Cocoa, Horlicks, anything!" she squeaked, trying to pull away from the blade, standing on her toes and pressing even harder against the cold glass.

_Horlicks? _Nuada couldn't believe what he was hearing. For a suspended moment, her ridiculous behaviour distracted him from his anger, and his lips quirked. Caoimhe's heart leapt at the brief softening of his mouth, and her eyes widened hopefully.

Her hope was short lived: Nuada growled softly, pointedly rotating his sword so that the sharp edge was biting into the slim column of her neck.

Caoimhe froze, her eyes big. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she gasped, her words tumbling over each other. "I didn't mean to offend you, Highness!"

He slowly lowered the blade from her neck, pressing the weapon instead across her chest, pinning her against the window.

"You _do_ offend me, human. You offend me for breathing the same air I breathe. By your very existence, you offend me," Nuada bit out. Cold, ancient hatred decorated each crisp word as he continued softly, "I am Silverlance, Warrior Prince of Bethmoora; do not presume to be worthy of hosting me. I am here so that you can answer for your insolence, for the betrayal of your kind, human."

Caoimhe quailed under the hatred concentrated in the word, 'human'. She was terrified to realise that he seemed to be holding onto his control with only the most tenuous grip, that he was a heartbeat away from punishing her for the ages of pain he had suffered at the hands of her kind.

"How _dare_ you come before my father!" Nuada snapped, raining his words upon her like blows. "How _dare_ you bring your filthy person before him! You should suffer a hundred screams for even daring to ask for an audience!" He heaved another unsteady breath. "And you will, oh you will, I promise you…"

He struck her across the temple with the hilt of his sword before she knew the blow was coming. She cried out, light exploding behind her eyes, darkness following the pain. She was thrown across the room by the force of his blow, landing in a boneless heap. She lay as she landed, twisted, unconscious.

"That's your first scream, human," Nuada ground out, kneeling beside her, ignoring the blood streaming from the gash on her head, painting her hair bright red. She was to die anyway, though not before he fulfilled his promise.

But first, he needed the crown piece. He brusquely flipped her onto her back and slashed his blade across her belly. He froze: his sword cut her clothing easily, but the blade refused to touch her skin! He slashed again, and again, the silver blade moved seamlessly above her skin without contacting her. What magic was this?

Abruptly, the image of his royal father formed in Nuada's mind, King Balor blessing this filthy human, his hands on her body, his lips on her forehead, magic encasing them. Nuada snarled, unceremoniously pulling the torn material back to reveal her skin. He looked incredulously at the glowing mark of the One Tree on the muscular curve of her belly, naming this _thing_ lying broken and twisted before him as being under his father's protection!

Anger flared in Nuada. Springing to his feet, he threw his head back and howled in frustration, wanting with all his strength to slash her limp body to pieces, to rip her apart and paint the floor with her blood. But he could not – his father had seen to it that he could not rip the crown piece from her bloody flesh.

Breathing deeply, Nuada forced himself to regain control. So she would have to be… convinced to give it to him freely, would she? If that was what his royal father decreed, he would play his father's game. Nuada put his hand over her heart, considering its erratic beat. She was even more fragile than he thought. He snarled words of power and life over the fallen human, breathing strength into her blood, denying her the escape of death.

Nuada closed his eyes and explored the magic enveloping Caoimhe. Magical protections were woven into her blood and bones, into the very fabric of her body. He would not be able to easily break them to take the crown piece, though clearly, he could break _her_ easily enough, judging from how little effort it took to put her next to death. Nuada frowned, sensing fury within the unconscious human, as if the magic within her was judging his behaviour. His brows contracted as this thought, puzzled by it. His own anger flared at the suggestion that he was in the wrong for attacking the human. Unwilling to spend another second in the confines of a human home, Nuada grasped Caoimhe by one arm and effortlessly dragged her behind him into the freedom of the extensive forest cradling the house.


	3. Revelations

Chapter 3: Revelations

Caoimhe awoke to pain and confusion. She was disoriented. The air was biting cold, while she seemed to be moving over some hard surface, pain screaming from her head and one arm. Trying to clear her head, she slowly became aware that the painful arm was held in a vicelike grip above her head. That puzzled her. Next, she came to the realisation that she was being dragged by that arm, hauled quickly over what she recognised a handful of heartbeats later to be the forest floor.

Even as full consciousness returned to her, she found herself being swung painfully around by her trapped arm and thrown to roll in the undergrowth, coming to rest in bright moonlight. Caoimhe raised her head to see black-clad legs before her. Moaning, she pulled herself up to a crouch and tried to clear her head. Could she escape? Could she somehow protect herself?

"Look at me, human!" Nuada ordered sharply.

Caoimhe forced her head up, meeting his golden glare. She shuddered at the pain that rewarded this movement, trying desperately to master it. Could she outrun him? She could try. Anything would be better than this, being a lamb to the slaughter.

"You know why I'm here. _Give me the crown piece!_"

Caoimhe's small fists clenched and her mouth worked helplessly. She felt like she was in a nightmare: she had been raised with love for this man, with her crown piece's dream that she could help Nuada overcome his hatred for her kind and start healing his ancient wounds. Clearly, he would not allow this, and she was destined to fail her beloved crown piece. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought, and she angrily wiped them away. Caoimhe forced herself to rise up, stumbling unsteadily to one side and running up against an ancient oak tree. She slumped against it, calling on all her strength to control her trembling body and help her escape.

Nuada's frown deepened with the lengthening silence. Caoimhe growled when he stepped impatiently toward her, surprising him with her flash of resistance. She twisted away, bounced off a tree, and then was running, running like she had never run before. She hardly noticed the trees flashing by her, not knowing where she was running to, as she blindly fled her tormenter.

Nuada's eyes narrowed as he watched the human flashing away. If her attempt to escape wasn't so pitiful, it would be laughable. As though she could outrun him, or hide from him. He _knew_ her now, had her in his mind, in his thoughts, and could bring her to him any time he liked now. She was his, to use and discard as he pleased. But she still had the crown piece. He lit out after her, moving like the wind over the forest bed.

Caoimhe couldn't hear Nuada behind her. All she heard was her ragged breathing, and the steady pounding of her feet. A small part of her mind noticed the erratic rhythm of her heart, but with her attention on escaping Nuada, she ignored this worry. She tried to glance behind, and staggered as her movement was rewarded by a sickening wave of pain from her damaged head.

When strong arms suddenly encircled her, Caoimhe felt as if her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. She tried to break free, gasping out a strangled cry of anger, but Nuada was far too powerful. He lifted Caoimhe kicking and struggling off the ground, still running with her. Next thing she knew, he had somehow folded space and was carrying her through the underground to his home. He effortlessly controlled her, securing her arms and holding her so that she couldn't kick him, clamped so tightly against his body that she could barely breathe. He carried her into his open training area, pulling leather straps from a shelf as he went. Spinning Caoimhe around, Nuada slammed her back against a wall, partially stunning her. He pinned her there by the force of his body against hers while he tied her arms above her head.

Stepping back, Nuada surveyed her. His golden gaze lingered on her belly, hungering for the magical fragment hidden within. He paced back and forth, studying her, his gaze never leaving her.

Something was wrong here. He knew it, but couldn't decipher exactly what was troubling him. He breathed slowly, calling on his considerable discipline to calm his rage and allow him to think clearly. Why ever would his father place magical protections on her? What had happened between this worthless human and his king?

The worthless human shook her head slowly, her breath laboured. "Head wound…?" she whispered to herself, pulling weakly against the straps on her wrists, "Concussion, I suppose… can't sleep then, oh…" she tilted her head, moving in slow motion, "… for how many hours? I-I don't remember." She whimpered softly. "Or is this shock? I d-don't know what to do about shock…"

Nuada growled impatiently under his breath. He pushed her chin up, raising her pale face to the diffuse light of his training area. "You won't live long enough to have to worry about concussion or shock," he informed her, shaking her slightly. "What you will do is give me the crown piece. _Now!_"

As if from a great distance, Caoimhe managed to focus on his steadfast golden gaze. Her brow contracted as she looked at him, her body shaking.

"No," Caoimhe said simply, her gaze dropping away from his. She heaved a sudden deep breath. "You would only bring your people to ruin."

"How dare you judge me!" he hissed, his hand tightening. "Give me the crown piece!"

Caoimhe shook her head as best she could, held tightly by his fingers.

Growling, Nuada slammed Caoimhe's head back against the wall. "Give it to me, now!"

Caoimhe cried out as her damaged head hit the stone. Perversely, the spike of pain helped bring her to her senses. She looked at his white face with more clarity. "No," she repeated, "I put her beyond your reach. I destroyed her." She met his furious gaze fiercely, finding strength in her anger.

Nuada drew back with a sharp exhalation. He studied Caoimhe, shocked by her revelation. "You're lying," he breathed, fists clenched.

"Ask your father if I'm lying."

Furious, Nuada raised one hand to strike Caoimhe, glaring at her. She glared back, too angry to even flinch. Slowly dropping his hand, Nuada swung away from Caoimhe and stalked quickly around his chamber, breathing harshly. Could she have done such a thing? And with his father's knowledge?

"_Lies!_" he shouted, causing Caoimhe to jump. He spun toward her. "Lies that I can easily disprove, human!" He stalked back to her, seizing her hand and crushing her fingers in his, his palm pressed tightly against hers. He seized her chin and forced her face up to his as she tried to twist away, staring fiercely into her eyes. She struggled for all she was worth, despite her fetters, despite his biting grip and the force of his body hard against hers. She screamed when he thrust contemptuously into her mind.

What he found surprised him. He had never before been in the mind of a human civilian, only warriors, and he had been deeply disgusted by their minds. Despite her pain and anger, Caoimhe's mind was pleasant, like entering a peaceful garden. He ignored the pain pounding with each beat of her panicked heart, ignored the added pain he caused her as he ran rough-shod within her mind, seeking the memory of her audience with his father. He _must_ know what they spoke of.

_Darkness of a strip of cloth binding your eyes. Confusion about the noises and the taste of the air; concern at the strength within the hands that push you forward, yank you back. Feeling the crown fragment within you singing in joy at being near her siblings. Feeling that same rapture fire your veins, even as you tremble to be among elves. Anxiety in having to admit that you are the Guardian. Surprise and elation as you suddenly register the sound of the other crown pieces singing to the one inside you, that you can share their emotion. Hesitation as a gentle hand replaces the rough hands that had controlled you, a hand that draws you carefully among the scent of flowers. Your voice quavering as you place your quandary before the Elf King._

_*Hold!*_

Caoimhe became very still under Nuada's hands, arrested by the single word he spoke within her mind.

_*Tell me what you said. Relive the experience.*_

Obediently, Caoimhe focused, taking Nuada back to the audience.

_*Majesty, I come because I have recently learned that there are one or more groups of humans who would steal the crown piece you gave my ancestor, to use against you. I am not certain how they plan to attack you, but they seem to believe that with the crown piece, they can subjugate you to their will. The risk must be serious, for this is the first time that learning of a plot like this has ever evoked response from the crown fragment. She – the crown piece – suggested that, to save you, she must die.*_

Horror and despair washed over Nuada, as Caoimhe remembered with crystal clarity how she had felt to hear her crown fragment even suggest an end to their shared existence. She could not recall a time without its presence, its beautiful voice within her mind.

_*She has asked me to take her to a place called the Lake of Fire, to throw her – us – into the lava, to free the magic woven into her. To... die.*_

Again, the sharp wave of despair, but Nuada noticed, no hesitation on the human's part about herself dying. He saw that she felt that she would be nothing without her crown piece. She was glad that if it chose to die, she could die with it. What she said next astonished him.

_*I am frightened, though, that without the third fragment, you can never again raise the Golden Army, that your people would be too vulnerable in the event of an attack. I couldn't bring myself to destroy my crown piece without at least giving you the opportunity to reclaim her.*_

_Sensing him circling you, like a wolf; anxiety in not knowing his reaction._

_*Please advise me, Highness. I am not myself wise enough to make a decision that may affect so many lives.*_

_Sensing him in front of you; puzzlement that his only response is to tell you to raise your hand. A feeling of electricity when his hand slides over yours, entwining your fingers, joining your palms. A rush of rapture as your fragment sings for him, and his sings with yours. Sudden shame as you realise he is reading your mind. What would he think of you, a lowly human? As good a life as you have tried to live, you know you are nothing compared to the people who created something as lovely and dangerous as the crown fragment._

_*Tell me, Guardian, why don't you want us to be vulnerable? We are your enemy, are we not?*_

_Puzzlement again. How could he ever think you wished for war between magical folk and mankind? That you would ever choose death over life?_

_*You're not _my_ enemy, Highness. Your people don't deserve to be hurt by humans, wilfully or because we're too stupid or uncaring to see the damage we cause. You should have the option of defending yourselves, though I cannot see how the Golden Army could ultimately save you.*_

_Feeling that the King is momentarily distracted by your opinion._

_*And would you die in molten earth, as the crown piece asks you to?*_

_*Yes.*_

_The hand gently withdrawing, leaving you with an emptiness that makes your heart howl. Sudden realisation that he is now behind you; that he is touching your abdomen, his hand firm above your precious charge._

_Rapture again, as the crown piece bursts forth in song, more beautiful yet._

She couldn't understand what it was saying to the Elf King, couldn't make out what he was saying to it. Nuada could… he frowned as the piece spoke the human's praise, told of her efforts on the behalf of the Children of the Forest, in upholding the Treaty. Spoke of wisdom that could be valuable. Finally, spoke of the plot against them, which the human had barely understood. Nuada growled in frustration, puzzled by the exchange between the crown piece and his father. The crown piece mentioned Avardal, the lost goblin kingdom. Whatever did that have to do with humans? As far as Nuada knew, Avardal now existed only in myth and legend. How would it lead the crown piece to ask to be destroyed?

Could the human have obeyed the third crown piece?

_The profound sense of loss again, feeling the King move away. Your crown piece singing as strongly, but now, a lament. Your heart stuttering and then leaping painfully when hands slide around your face and you feel lips against your forehead. What is he saying? Not being able to hear over the lament._

Nuada could, and his lips tightened as his father claimed the human as a subject – a _subject!_ – of Bethmoora. In doing so, Balor provided Caoimhe with ancient protection, blessing her and accepting her as a gift from the fragment of the Royal Crown within her. Nuada gasped when he heard his royal father say, _*Guardian, the crown piece speaks wisely. Take it to the Lake of Fire as requested, and destroy it. Do not despair for us, as you will be protecting us in obeying your charge.*_ How could his father authorise such a base action; what was the threat that lead him to relinquish control of the Golden Army?!

_Sudden heat, frightening and puzzling, but not painful. Then, as suddenly, realising that you are back in the woods, alone but for the thrumming crown piece._

Shaken, Nuada closed his eyes, now seeking the crown piece. It was indeed gone – how could he have missed that, when he had studied the magic on her earlier? She was so fragrant with magic; he had been sure that he was sensing the crown piece. Before he could consider this thought further, Nuada froze, suddenly registering that the human's heart was struggling like a trapped bird within her ribcage; that she was again close to death. Caoimhe's eyes were glassy with shock and pain, while blood flowed from her eyes, nose and ears. Growling, Nuada repeated the words of power and life, his hand over her heart, forcing her to rally. She shuddered, and a flicker of consciousness rewarded his effort.


	4. The Third Crown Piece

Chapter 4: The Third Crown Piece

Nuada summoned a fairy, sending it off to fetch a healer _immediately_. He untied Caoimhe, laying her by the warmth of his fire. He continued with his healing spell, doggedly keeping her heart beating and air flowing through her lungs. She was starting to struggle against him, drawing on a wellspring of strength that quite surprised him with its depth. Perhaps she wasn't as weak as he had thought. He stood up gratefully when a healer emerged from the darkness only a few minutes later. Wink was with him, obviously concerned that the healer might be for Nuada. He grunted with relief in finding Nuada unharmed.

The healer, Loro, bowed to Nuada; then at his nod, turned his attention to the human. His lips became very tight as he tallied her wounds, but he kept his accusatory thoughts to himself. He quickly mixed an elixir and expertly tipped it down her throat. Caoimhe looked better within seconds, her colour brightening and her breathing smoothing out. Loro gently separated Caoimhe's blood-soaked hair, revealing a gash extending back from her temple. He considered it with a frown. Next, he carefully probed the damage to the back of her head; Nuada cast a startled look at the wall where she had hung, and noticed the blood on it for the first time. Loro turned his attention away from Caoimhe's head, running his fingers over her bruised and cut wrists.

"The human is no longer in mortal danger, Your Highness, but she has been badly injured," Loro informed Nuada. He turned Caoimhe's face toward the light, pulling up an eyelid and studying her pupil, before surveying the blood staining her face. He pursed his lips, silently debating how to chastise the prince for damaging her mind so needlessly. "Your mind is far too strong for her, Sire. She's just a child, and a human one at that."

Nuada glared at Loro, eyes narrowing dangerously, but chose not to berate him. All that blood was mute testimony that he had handled the human more forcefully than was necessary. But a child? Nuada cocked his head, looking at Caoimhe. He supposed she was, compared to the centuries old elves, but not by human standards. She was old enough to be accountable.

Loro linked his hand with Caoimhe's, closing his eyes. He raised his chin thoughtfully as he looked gently within her mind. "Already, she's trying to escape, to hide in the darkness, safe from her torment. Without careful watch over the next 12 – 24 hours, she won't be able to find her way back, and we _will_ lose her. I will stay with her, as a light to guide her back. I also need to clean and dress her wounds, Your Highness - where shall I take her?"

"Send the human home, Brother."

"Nuala!" Nuada spun around, his face lighting up. He crossed quickly to her, laughing like a delighted boy. "Welcome, my sister!" he grinned, reaching out to her with a short bow.

Nuala extended her head in return, rejecting the touch he clearly offered. She moved toward the fire and the fallen human. Nuala looked down at Caoimhe, perplexed. What did their father see in this girl?

"Or, let me take her to the palace, Brother, if you are unwilling to return her to the human world," she continued, glancing back at Nuada.

Nuada joined Nuala, the joy in his face fading. "Father sent you," he asked without inflection, knowing the answer.

She nodded, her gaze still on Caoimhe. "Father must have anchored her statue to her - it bled, as she bleeds. He sent me to you as soon as he realised that you had finally found the human guardian."

"With a message for me?" Nuada guessed, looking at his sister's luminous face.

She nodded again, jerkily. He could feel mixed emotions radiating from her, knew that she was aware of the magic placed on the human by their father, and as puzzled by Balor's odd behaviour as he. Nuada considered his sister in silence, then turned to Loro and Wink.

"Mr. Wink, please show Healer Loro where the human can be cleansed. Help him if required." Nuada plucked Caoimhe up effortlessly, placing her into Wink's outstretched arms without any special care. He and Nuala watched as Loro followed the troll away.

Nuada turned to meet Nuala's golden eyes. He exhaled sharply, frustration on his face. "Nuala, I forced that damned human to relive her audience with our father, and yet I still fail to understand why Father behaved as he did!" Nuada ground out. "You were there, my sister: can you explain our King's actions?"

His frustration was echoed in her expression. "No, Brother. No. I cannot." She shook her head, moving restlessly. "I don't understand any part of what happened between the crown pieces, the human, and our father." She caressed her crown piece thoughtfully, dwelling on that day. "I had no notion that the crown pieces would talk to each other."

Nuada considered the crown piece on Nuala's slim waist. "The third crown fragment talked to our father directly," he reported. "It explained what the human could not, about the plot against our people. It mentioned Avardal... does that make any sense to you?"

Nuala looked surprised. "Avardal? That makes no sense, even if the crown is goblin-made."

"I don't understand it either." Nuada paced restlessly. "The crown fragment asked to be destroyed, Sister, to save all of us," Nuada continued. He took a deep breath. "The human did as it requested."

Nuala looked horrified, then relieved. "So the Golden Army will sleep forever," she said softly, "and we will fade without further blood on our hands."

"We will not fade!" Nuada snapped. "Even without the Golden Army, we will find a way to regain our heritage!" Nuada steeled himself. "What message do you have for me?"

Nuala offered him an ornate cylinder.

Nuada removed a parchment from it, turning it toward the light. His black lips grew thin. He crushed the message, staring furiously into the flames.

"What does Father say, Nuada?"

Nuada's face briefly shone with joy at hearing his lovely sister say his name. "You saw him bless the human. You know what he now commands."

"That you spare her life?"

Nuada snorted, looking darkly at his sister. "That I _guard_ her life!" He threw the parchment into the fire with unnecessary force. "That I, Silverlance, protect a human!"

Nuala sighed, puzzled. "Because she held the crown fragment within her flesh?" she mused, "But if she destroyed it, why would our father charge you to guard her?"

Nuada looked sharply at Nuala, struck by her words. A sudden, unwelcome thought came to him. He reconsidered what he had witnessed in Caoimhe's memory of her audience with the Elf King. Was the magic he had found woven into the very fabric of her being all from Balor's blessing, or was it also from the crown piece? Unthinkable as it was, could the power of the third crown piece have infiltrated its human guardian when the crown piece died? Nuada's eyes grew wide. If so, that meant that for the short span of her earthly life, Caoimhe tied to his people; to their wellbeing!

"Come with me, Sister!" Nuada barked, pulling Nuala toward his elegant bathing suite. They found Loro there, rubbing salve on the human's wounds. Wink stood above them, the expression on his face hard to interpret. Caoimhe looked very insignificant, stripped to her underwear and lying unconscious on a bench in the warm, humid room. Bruises echoing the strength of Nuada's fingers were livid on the pale skin of her arm.

Nuala gasped when Nuada snatched her crown fragment from her gown. She tried to seize it back, but her twin impatiently shook her off. He cocked his head, fluidly crouching to bring the crown fragment near Caoimhe's pale flesh, where the One Tree glowed softly in the diffuse light. He and Nuala both gasped as the crown piece began to sing, his voice haunting. Next, to their amazement, the human began to shimmer as the ghost of the third fragment responded. Caoimhe stirred, her expression echoing the emotions produced by magic playing over her. The third crown piece voiced a hauntingly beautiful, painfully brief lament, before falling silent. Nuala's crown piece was left singing alone. The aching grief in the song was chilling.

Nuada stood up with a grim expression, handing the second crown piece back to his sister. Nuala snatched it from him, placing it back in its holder and moving away. She was shaken to her core to see a human enjoy something so wonderful, of which all she could sense was but a distant, tantalising echo.

"The human must live then, as our King commands," Nuada bit out, his fists clenched. He met Loro's eyes. "I was the one to hurt her; it will be my penance to care for her now."

Nuada turned to Nuala. "Tell Father that his command will be obeyed, Sister. I will return the human to her home and see that she is safe there." He wrapped Caoimhe in a cloak and picked her up carefully. "Mr. Wink, please escort Princess Nuala back to the palace, then join me. Healer Loro, come with me."


	5. Guarding the Guardian

Chapter 5: Guarding the Guardian

Caoimhe awoke to excited whines and a gentle hand on her brow. She pushed herself up in bed slowly, finding her beloved dogs jumping excitedly around her, and her mother Heather leaning over her.

"Mamaí!" Caoimhe hugged her weakly, overjoyed, then sank back.

"Well, you're a slugabed," Heather observed, humour taking the sting out of her words. She stroked Caoimhe's hair back. "Lord, child, you've lost weight," she said sternly, running her fingers along the hollow plane of one of Caoimhe's cheeks.

Caoimhe managed a small smile, carefully shaking her head. How long had she been home? She wasn't sure.

"W-what time is it, Mamaí?"

"Nine at night. Have you slept all day? You must have needed it, if you didn't even hear when I called. Or Aiden – he finally phoned me to say that you hadn't come to pick up your dogs, and that you weren't answering your phone. He thought you hadn't come home after all."

"Thanks for bringing my dogs home," Caoimhe grinned, hugging her dogs and trying to pat them all at once.

"I know how you are! Come on, get up and shower while I make us some tea."

Nuada watched this exchange impassively, hidden from the eyes of the humans. Similarly, Loro and Wink were unseen. The dogs weren't fooled, but the mother had been concentrating on Caoimhe, and so didn't notice when the dogs greeted the magical folk.

He narrowed his eyes as Caoimhe touched her head with a grimace. She tilted her head with a puzzled look, her fingers slipping into her hair, finding and tracing the carefully stitched wound from his sword. She touched the back of her head with a wince, still puzzled, then pushed back the sleeves of the simple elfin robe Nuala had sent with Wink for her. She eyed the cuts and ugly bruises encircling her wrists, frowning. Nuada could hear her heart throw itself against her ribcage as she suddenly remembered some of the events of the previous night.

Caoimhe hugged her dogs again, fighting back tears as she recalled how viciously Nuada had put her in her place. She had just lost her crown piece; now she knew that the amazing man she had been raised to adore hated her, just because of her race. Angrily wiping the tears away, she tried unsuccessfully to tell herself that that was for the best, as she was unworthy of him, that he would only find grief in knowing her. Brave words, that gave her little relief. She started as her mother called from the kitchen, "Come on, Caoimhe. I don't have all night!" She bit a finger hard, trying to gain control of her emotion.

Loro immediately stepped forward, his face concerned. Nuada shook his head tersely at the healer. Annoyed by Caoimhe's behaviour, and thinking it was out of fear, Nuada summoned a fairy. He handed it a message, dropping its glamour and directing it to Caoimhe. Caoimhe started back, while her dogs sat up excitedly. The fairy twittered before Caoimhe, offering her a parchment. Caoimhe took it hesitantly, unable to take her eyes from the extraordinary creature. Only when it had disappeared did she open the scroll.

_Guardian, you are safe, by royal decree. Do not fear._

Caoimhe sat numbly, staring at it in amazement. Good Lord, would she have to face Nuada again? Would she have to hide her pain and her love, to protect him? Caoimhe moaned softly, unsure if she could; knowing that she must, if he confronted her.

The sound of Heather's brisk footsteps on the stones of the passage way roused Caoimhe, and she quickly hid the parchment.

"What are you like?" Heather demanded, shaking her head with a smile as she put a cup beside Caoimhe. "Stay in bed then. I can wait until tomorrow to hear about your trip. Come up to the house at about 9, ok?" When Caoimhe nodded numbly, her mother bent and kissed her head. "I'm glad you're safely home, Caoimhe. I was worried. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Thanks. B-bye," Caoimhe managed, still reeling. She couldn't recall ever feeling so weak. How on earth would she find the strength to behave as she must?

Nuada jerked his head at Wink, sending him out after the mother. He looked silently at Loro, who immediately moved to the bed, closing his eyes and drifting his hands over the sheets covering Caoimhe's body, running them lightly over her head. She shuddered, sensing his unseen touch but unable to make sense of it. Loro turned back with a terse nod, silently indicating that Caoimhe was now well enough to face Nuada. He bowed to Nuada and withdrew.

Nuada moved forward, dropping his glamour. Caoimhe gasped, her eyes huge, her heart again thundering painfully. She clenched her fists, her drawn face raised to his. He slowly spread his hands, emphasising that he wasn't holding his weapons. The dogs playfully bounced toward him, grovelling in adoration and wagging their tails vigorously. Nuada smiled suddenly, letting them pile around him, patting them fondly. All the while, Caoimhe stared at him. She took a deep breath, glad to feel a quiet strength rise from within her fatigue, easing her pain.

Nuada made a point not to look at Caoimhe as he played with her dogs. He was aware of the panicked cadence within her chest. As his father had decreed that this human must live, he supposed that he would have to force her pathetic heart to behave. She didn't even notice when he began singing softly. He spun magic into his notes, satisfied as Caoimhe's heart rate eased and fell into the rhythm of his song. When he slowly looked up and locked gazes, her heart stumbled, but the power of the song smoothed its rate out immediately. Nuada cocked his head, continuing his song, slowly drawing closer to her.

She scooted back nervously, incoherent words on her lips, when he sat on the bed beside her. Nuada forced himself to repeat his father's gestures; carefully cupping her face, slowly leaning forward to kiss her forehead. His lips moved against her skin as he began to recite the ancient pledge of protection, reluctantly accepting the girl trembling under his touch as one of his subjects. He paused, his teeth clenched, a slight tremor in his hands, thinking, _No human deserves this!_

His resolve almost failed, but he forced himself to continue. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and repressed the desire to crush her head, keeping his touch feather soft. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand light at the still tender back of her head, his white-blond hair swinging forward to curtain their faces as he continued reciting the covenant. She jumped when he firmly unlocked her hands from their defensive grip on her knees, placing each arm in turn by her side, before his white hand settled on her drawn-up knees, insistently pushing her legs down. His hand trailed inexorably up her body to cover her belly through the sheets, his words falling softly over her. She trembled with conflicting emotions, her small hands white-knuckled, her heartbeat like thunder to his sensitive ears.

He was rewarded by sudden shimmering light, as the ghost of the third crown piece burst into song, heartrendingly beautiful. Caoimhe became very still, rapture battling with apprehension on her face. The magic of the crown piece enflamed Nuada, making him forget his hatred, his anger that he must guard his enemy. It shared its deep love for its human host, its judgement that she was a kind and moral person, worthy of his protection and to be one of his subjects. Such was the power of the siren song that Nuada forgot that this was a human he was touching so intimately. Moving as if in a dream, he slowly slid his hand up to her chin, gently tipping her head up and pressing his lips to hers.

That was too much for Caoimhe. Her heart felt like it was trying to rip free of her chest. She was overwhelmed by love, fired by her crown fragment's passion for the Elf Prince, while at the same time, she was painfully aware of his hatred for humans. She had sensed his hesitation, his distaste, like he was touching something slimy. What was going on? Could he kiss her one second, and strike her the next? Unnerved by this thought, she tried to push him away.

Nuada was too enflamed by the seductive power of Caoimhe's crown piece to even notice the pressure of her hands against his armour. He deepened their kiss, hungry for the magic of the crown fragment singing within her. A remote part of his brain recognised the painful labour of Caoimhe's heart. He placed his hand on smooth skin above the pounding. He whispered the words of power and life against her lips, easing her straining heart. Pulling her body hard against his, Nuada increased the demand of his mouth on hers, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other snaking across her back. She was crushed against him, forcibly aware of the power in his body. She was torn between a hunger to bind him to her as fiercely as he was holding her, and anger that he was toying with her so cruelly.

"Enough, my son."

Nuada started, looking at Caoimhe with a blank face. She gasped as his expression suddenly ignited with the most primal fury she had ever witnessed. He pushed her away with a look of revulsion that cut her to the core. She froze when he leapt up, a weapon appearing in his hand. She stared up at him, eyes huge, sure that he was a heartbeat away from killing her.

"No!" Balor barked, springing forward with an agility surprising to his long years. Even as Nuada raised the sword to strike Caoimhe, he blocked Nuada's blade with his wooden arm, glaring at his bright son. "Nuada, stand down!" he commanded regally, bringing all the weight of his office to his voice.

For a suspended moment, it seemed like Nuada would attack his father instead. Caoimhe reared up, seizing Nuada's arm with both hands, desperate to stop him. He snarled at her, furious that she dared touch him. Balor shook his head at Caoimhe. She sank back quickly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Nuada, stand down!" Balor repeated calmly, forcing Nuada to look at him. "Now!"

A long shudder ran through Nuada, and his eyes finally focused. He dropped to one knee before his royal father, the weapon clattering to the stones beside them. "F-forgive me, Father," he gasped, breathing deeply. "I-I know not what came over me."

King Balor caressed his son's shining head, a smile illuminating his aged face. "There is powerful magic at work here, my son," he observed, meeting Nuada's gaze when his bright son raised his head. "Magic I do not entirely understand." He looked sharply toward Caoimhe when the ghost of the third crown piece defiantly resumed singing. His crown piece added her voice, starting a joyous duet. "Be still!" he barked, holding his hand up imperiously when Caoimhe sat up, only to have Nuada glare at her. Caoimhe's face smoothed out as his enchantment swept over her.

Balor raised his son to his feet, then embraced him. Touching his face, he kissed his forehead, both men luminous with joy at being reunited.

Balor returned his attention to Caoimhe. His spell held her still and quiet, like the calm at the eye of a storm. "Be at peace, Guardian," Balor said. "You have served Bethmoora well in your care for your crown piece. You have earned Our trust and friendship." He briefly traced the long cut on her head, looking at his son. "Do not fear anymore: you now have the protection and kinship of the magical folk," Balor continued. "Despite his recent behaviour, my son now understands your service to Us, and your devotion to the crown piece and the Treaty. He will _never_ _again_ seek to harm you."

Nuada's jaw worked, but he bowed his head to his father, aware of his vow to protect the human before him. He was disturbed that he could pledge protection one minute, and almost slice her in two the next. What madness had stolen his control from him?

Balor clapped, and Caoimhe was surrounded by elfin women. They forced food and drink on her, taking advantage of her unwilling compliance. They offered the same refreshments to Balor and Nuada. Once the women were satisfied the Caoimhe had eaten enough, they pressed her back against the pillows, smoothing her long hair over the sheets, stroking her skin. Balor gently passed his hand over Caoimhe's eyes, closing her lids. "Sleep now, and regain your strength," he ordered her. The last thing she recalled was feeling her dogs settle on the bed around her, as sleep enveloped her. The continued song of the crown pieces followed her into sleep.

Once the other elves had withdrawn, Balor turned to meet Nuada's golden gaze. "I am very proud of you, my son: I know how hard it was to turn aside from your hate and care for the Guardian. We must talk! I am sure that you now realise that the third crown piece has been destroyed?"

"And that we can never again revive the Golden Army."

"So it would appear." Balor frowned, gripping Nuada's shoulder. "We did without the army before, and will do so now. Perhaps it is for the best. I am not convinced that all-out war is the answer, Nuada. Ever since the time of the Treaty, I have been studying mankind. They have changed greatly in their warfare since the old days." Balor glanced at Caoimhe. "This human is the first that the third crown piece has ever deigned to talk to, despite it choosing to be carried within their flesh for generations, ever since it was stolen and painfully reclaimed. Her crown piece believes that she may have information that will be valuable in understanding how to win against her people, without sacrificing ours."

Nuada looked surprised. "I know that her crown fragment can speak to its siblings. Is that how you know this, Father?"

"It was by design that I gave the humans the sister crown piece to my own," Balor said, touching the fragment on his belt. "The twin."

"Ah!" Nuada looked at Caoimhe with new interest. "And like Nuala and I, the twin crown pieces have always been connected?"

"Indeed. The third crown piece has been my spy among humans since the Treaty."

"You have always had the power to recall the third fragment and revive the Golden Army! And now we have lost them!" Nuada burst out. "Why have you let our people suffer, Father? The humans consume everything in their path, they are destroying the earth. Greed has burned a hole in their hearts that will never be filled!"

"Patience, Nuada. I seek a more effective solution than galvanising the humans in war against our people. We need to defeat them through their own nature and laws. And we will. I haven't been idle, all the years of your exile."

Nuada looked mutinous.

"I understand your feelings, Son." Balor touched Nuada's cheek affectionately. "I taught you to fight, and watched you become the supreme warrior. I shared your passion, but not the level of hatred you developed. What stopped me was the wisdom of my long years. You still lack that wisdom, my son. It is time for you to understand the true nature of the battle we must fight." Balor gestured to Caoimhe. "And to learn that, you must understand the Guardian." He chuckled. "How ironic that a mere human is your path to enlightenment, Nuada. The Gods do have a sense of humour!"

Nuada was taken back. "I have wisdom enough, Father!" he snapped, "The only lesson I need to learn from the humans is how best to destroy them!"

"We don't need to destroy mankind, just defeat them. The third crown piece believed that this human will show us the way. Learn from her."

Nuada looked at Caoimhe, his face impatient. He cocked his head, considering if there was anything to his father's words. His father was far too sympathetic to mankind and their desires. Nuada growled, thinking of how little honour his people had left, hiding underground, while human cities consumed the green earth. How could anyone think that a mere human could have so much value? And what threat was so serious that the third crown piece chose to deny the elves the power of the Golden Army?

"Father, I do not understand why the third crown piece asked to die. What has Avardal to do with it? Share your insight with me!"

Balor studied Nuada, frowning. "Did you read the Guardian's mind, my son?" he demanded.

"I did. I made her relive your audience with her. Why –"

Balor cut across him, looking sharply at Caoimhe. "How badly did you damage her mind?" he demanded, meeting Nuada's furious gaze. "Son, we need this human to be whole and well, to learn how to defeat her people!"

Nuada ignored him. "Why did you counsel her to destroy the crown fragment?" he continued in a low, burning voice, "How could you allow her to prevent us from awakening the Golden Army, my Father? How?!"

Balor looked away, a tired expression shading his face. At length, he answered in a soft voice, "It was the wisdom and power of Avardal that gave birth to the Golden Army and the Royal Crown, Nuada. Though my father put the goblin king and his ancient kingdom to rest by taking the throne, goblin wisdom was handed down through the centuries. Indeed, even now rumours whisper that their magic and wisdom were preserved in a book, though none alive that I know of have seen this relic." Balor looked thoughtfully at Nuada, who listened with thin lips. "The goblins who provided us with the Golden Army bound the crown and the army to obey those of royal blood. I often wondered why they didn't tie the army to our family only, as well they could. Instead, they bound it to any royalty.

"I have thought, as the third crown piece has thought, that perhaps the goblins weren't so altruistic in their actions as we originally believed. The third crown piece gained an intelligence and awareness that the other pieces have yet to demonstrate. It found extra magic bound in its fabric, ancient goblin spells not related to our control over the Golden Army. It thought that perhaps there were spells within it that could be used to harm our family, and throw down our rule. That is why it chose to die when it learned that a group of humans may have discovered how to activate these spells, to use it against its siblings and against us. It trained its guardian well, and despite this human's pain, despite her arguments with the crown fragment not to die, she did as her crown fragment requested. But you will notice that she offered it to me first, to reclaim, out of concern for our people, my son. She has been a faithful servant to us, as her crown piece raised her to be."

Balor turned his attention to Caoimhe as he spoke. He touched her head, considering the music of the crown pieces. Gently linking hands, he carefully assessed the extent to which Nuada had hurt her by forcing her to relive her experience.

Nuada raised his chin challengingly when his father linked his mind to the human's. He paced the room, considering what his father had said. He was still puzzled by the sequence of events, and angry that the crown piece that should have been his was now beyond his reach. Nuada stopped by his father, subjecting the Guardian to a probing look.

The song of the crown fragments soothed him, causing him to catch his breath at the beauty conferred on the human by the magic within the crown fragments. His fury was replaced by a deep rapture. How could he ever have hurt her, or considered her to be filth? He smoothed her hair back, then stroked along her face, enjoying the softness of her skin, the rosy invitation of her mouth. When Nuada glanced at his father, he discovered Balor's faded gaze on him, watching him warily.

"Careful, my son," Balor said gently. "Your love is as dangerous to this girl as your hatred and anger. She –"

Nuada cut him off. "Love?! Me?! A _human_?!" He pulled back as if scalded, horrified by his feelings. What had he been thinking?! How could he see a human as anything but vermin, to be ground under his heel?! "I, Prince Nuada, Silverlance?! How dare you!"

"This girl obviously attracts you, Nuada. Perhaps it is because the third crown piece loved her deeply. You know this in your heart; you have felt it in her and in the magic of the Royal Crown of Bethmoora, within her."

"I feel the magic in her, nothing more. She is only as important as that!"

"Indeed, Son, but that is of paramount importance! Be mindful of your behaviour toward her. She is fragile indeed, and I sincerely doubt that the ghost of her crown fragment is happy with you for hurting her."

"I don't believe that the human is as important as you claim, Father, to us or to what remains of the third crown piece. She's the enemy!"

"Not this particular human. If the crown fragments are correct, she is the key to finding lasting peace and reclaiming our way of life. Think, Son, think! Meditate on this, and learn from the Guardian!"

Nuada frowned, his fists clenched. "Winning the war will depend on us, Father, not on some human! You are blind to the true nature of the humans, to their savage hunger."

"It is you who are blind: I have seen much that you stubbornly ignore, my son. You will realise this in time. But remember your vow to guard the Guardian, Nuada!"

"I respect my vow. I – I don't understand the way this wretched human makes me feel, but regardless of the emotions she evokes, I won't let myself lose control again, I promise you Father!" Nuada ground out. "I _will_ guard her. Don't insult me by telling me that I must love her as well!"

"Whatever your feelings may be for the Guardian, you must find the courage and wisdom to accept them. But be careful: if you do discover love for her–" Balor put his hand up at the fury flaring on Nuada's white face, forestalling the words Nuada was bursting to say, "If you _do_ come to love her, you put her at as great a risk of pain as if you continue to hate her. Do you realise what would have happened if you had killed her?"

The fury shaking Nuada's limbs drained away. He fell to pacing back and forth along the length of the room, recalling how many times Caoimhe had been on death's threshold, at his hands.

"You would have destroyed the third crown piece, you who are beloved of the Royal Crown! Do you think the other crown fragments would have kept their enchantment if you had murdered their sister? Our magic will be weakened if you strike out in fury at the very enchantment that lives only to serve and protect our people!"

Nuada was shaken. He knelt before Balor, taking his good hand and saying softly, "Forgive me, my King." He took a deep breath, then admitted, "My hatred for humans does sometimes blind me. I will seek the wisdom you ask me to learn." He looked over at Caoimhe. "I will guard her and save her from pain, as best as I am able," he finished, his voice echoing the torment within his heart.

Balor touched Nuada's bent head. "I forgive you, Son. Whether the magic of the third crown piece forgives you remains to be seen. Seek that, and seek the answer to how we can finally defeat mankind!" Balor drew Nuada up. "Now, I will watch over the Guardian. I too need to meditate on why the crown piece regards her so highly. I would like you to check the forest beside this house, and judge if it is suitable for the court to relocate here. I feel in my bones that it is time again for our people to live under the canopy of trees." He smiled. "The time has come for us to reclaim our land and our ways."

Nuada bowed, turning away with a last, troubled look at Caoimhe. He stalked from the room.

As soon as Nuada was gone, Balor spun on Caoimhe, his good hand dropping to the crown fragment on his belt. He glared at the sleeping girl, thinking, _*What were you doing, you foolish thing?! You almost caused Nuada to kill your human host!*_

The ghost of the third crown piece fell pointedly silent.

Balor was exasperated. The huffy silence from the crown piece eloquently conveyed its opinion that all would have been fine, if he hadn't interrupted his son.

_*You ask Nuada to put aside thousands of magical folk dead at mankind's hands, as well as thousands of years of rage, when you try to bewitch him with your Guardian!* _Balor thought grimly, clenching his fists. *_He has hurt far too deeply for far too long to simply sink into a woman's arms and suddenly be whole and well again, no matter how enticing you make her! _Especially_ a human woman! Do you think Nuada has forgotten his hatred for mankind in the long years of his exile?! As you have seen, he is as likely to kill her as love her, and you place her at grave risk by attempting to seduce him! He must find his salvation in his own time. _Never_ again seek to manipulate him with your magic!*_

Dimly, he felt the ghost of the third crown piece respond. A lilting wave of exquisite music washed over him from the fragment. It _may_ have been an apology, but equally, Balor thought that the third crown piece may have been berating him for having so little faith in the plans they had laid down over the long years of Nuada's exile. Taking a deep breath, Balor straightened up, eyeing Caoimhe. The third crown piece quite clearly had plans of its own. He needed to divine them, and quickly, before his bright son lost his control and ruined all. He sank onto the long window seat, lost in thought.


	6. Seeking Wisdom

Chapter 6: Seeking Wisdom

The house seemed mercifully free of elves and other magical folk when Caoimhe awoke the next morning. She was aware of their scent, an elusive and lovely perfume, hanging in the air throughout her house. She recalled the same lovely scent when she had her audience with the Elf King. She devoutly hoped that they were actually gone, rather than just masked by their glamour, as she showered and dressed.

Taking a cup of coffee to the bench in front of the house, Caoimhe pulled a wool wrap tightly around her shoulders and sat, looking out over the pastures while she considered what she could remember since returning home. The solitude and peace of the setting were by no means enough to ease the pain or the confusion that she felt as she considered her interactions with the Elf Lords. The pervasive ache in her head and arm, plus the extensive periods where she couldn't recall what had happened, suggested to her that she had been badly wounded indeed. Without memory of Loro tending her, she had no idea that it was only thanks to Loro's healing magics that she wasn't drowning in pain from the injuries Nuada gave her.

A caressing nicker interrupted her reverie, and Caoimhe looked up to find her favourite horse trotting up the path to her. Poetry in Motion blew breathily into her face, mouthing her nose in greeting, before dropping his head into her lap and resting there with a distinct air of contentment. Caoimhe was touched that the lovely Friesian had obviously missed her. Hugging him gently and stroking his glossy black coat, she felt a wonderful sense of peace, welcome after the turbulence and fear of the last while. How convenient that he was here – she would ride him over to her parent's house on the estate. But first, she better let Aiden know where his prize stallion was.

Caoimhe left Poe in the garden while she went back in to change into riding gear and call Aiden. She returned to find Poe standing calmly, her dogs lying around him in anticipation of a run. She laughed as Poe walked quickly to her, his desire to carry her eloquent in his alert carriage. He danced on the spot as she vaulted onto his back. She wrapped her hands in his luxurious mane, conscious that she had less energy than usual, judging from how much effort it took to jump onto his tall back. Usually, she could throw herself up onto even the tallest horse with relative ease. She sat comfortably as Poe walked out of her yard and headed toward the woodland trail that would lead her to her parent's house. He knew the way well, having taken her there many times. He picked up speed as he moved through the forest, while Caoimhe clung to him easily and gloried in being free on his back. She enjoyed watching the dogs ghosting through the undergrowth, frisking along with joy in their lolling tongues and waving tails. Poe's movement was fluid and didn't add to the pain Caoimhe was enduring; indeed, being out riding distracted her from the throbbing.

Caoimhe had managed to forget all the horror and thrills of the previous day when Poe slowed abruptly, transitioning quickly but being careful not to jar his rider. He stood, bowing his head to a tall, proud figure ahead on the path. Caoimhe was little surprised to find Prince Nuada blocking their way. He wasn't looking at her; rather, he was greeting Poe. Poe breathily considered his raised hand, then blew into his face, pushing his long white blond hair away. Caoimhe studied the elf's handsome face, thinking of her crown piece's passion for him. If she couldn't heal Nuada as her crown piece had desired, then she could at least guard him from further harm. If he allowed her to do so, that was.

She was unsure of Nuada's mind: while he had kissed her, reducing her to a quivering mass of adoration and self-loathing, her rational mind found it hard to believe that he felt anything but profound hatred for her. She suspected that Nuada had experienced the same rapture she felt when her beloved crown piece sang, and that the Elf Prince was better able to resist the crown piece's siren song. She had no defence against it, especially when it enflamed her while Nuada was touching her, his intriguing scent flooding her, his melodic voice sliding over her skin. She felt a deep love for Nuada, as she had since her earliest memories, love inherited from her crown fragment. Simultaneously, she felt so worthless, so crass and ugly. So… human.

These feelings became stronger as Nuada glanced up to her from Poe's arched neck, where he was gently stroking along Poe's jet black coat. Even with his smile fading from his black lips, he looked unthinkably magnificent, like a god compared to her. Caoimhe looked away quickly, holding onto the beauty of the smile he had bestowed on Poe. She was afraid that if she met his gaze, she would find disgust and hatred in his sculpted white face.

Moved to her side, Nuada looked up into her averted face. "Good morning, Guardian," he said politely, forcing himself to behave as befits a Crown Prince. He carefully hid his distaste that he was addressing a human. Listening to Caoimhe's heart, Nuada was relieved that it wasn't trying to beat its way out of her chest at his attention. That was a good sign. Still, he'd have to ask Loro to look at her heart; it struggled in an ominous way when she was with him, as if each beat would be the last.

Nuada studied Caoimhe cautiously. Her feelings were scrolling openly over her expressive face. Loro was right, Nuada suddenly realised: she _was_ like a child, too honest and innocent to hide her reactions. He cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he harvested the emotions playing over her features. She didn't seem as frightened as previously – rather, she seemed unsure of her emotions. Nuada commiserated: he was certainly unsure of his.

During the night, Nuada had spent considerable time in discussion with his father, learning of the past millennia and the tales of the third crown piece. He and Balor had repeatly visited Caoimhe as she slept, communing with the ghost of the crown piece or gently linking hands with the sleeping woman to find the answers to their many questions. Already, Nuada had a much better understanding of Caoimhe, of her unfailing attempts to uphold the Treaty, and of how the third crown piece had from her earliest years shaped her. His hatred stood between them, an almost tangible barrier, while his anger that he was inexplicably drawn to her made him want to strike out, regardless of his vow. Despite these burning emotions, he was struggling to study her objectively, as charged by his royal father. Though Nuada raged against the thought that he had to tolerate a _human_, he had to admit that she wasn't completely worthless, having devoted herself to his people over her own.

"Highness." Caoimhe bobbed her head, finally forcing herself to meet Nuada's golden eyes. Her heart sank at the cold expression on his face. Biting her lip, she hid her feelings as best she could, afraid of provoking Nuada.

Nuada raised his eyebrows, watching her attempt to keep her emotions to herself. _A child trying to hide like an adult_, he thought. Nuada squared his shoulders. He forced himself to offer the human a small bow, grinding out "I… apologise for forcing myself on you last night."

Caoimhe blushed, her eyes big and gaze riveted on his face.

"I am not in the habit of behaving like a… licentious youth," he continued, anger underwriting his soft words. "It will not happen again, I promise you."

Caoimhe's red cheeks burned brighter. Poe moved restlessly, echoing her discomfort. She swallowed, looking away while she said in Elfin, "T-thank you, Highness. I took no offense."

Nuada continued to study her, aware that she wasn't being entirely honest with him. She wasn't exactly offended, but she wasn't fine either. Curse her that he had to bother trying to placate her! How could it be that she was the key to discovering how to defeat her kind? He shifted abruptly, seeking a way to break the tension.

Poe gently bent his head around and mouthed the back of Nuada's coat, nickering playfully. Nuada patted him gratefully. "It has been many years since I indulged in riding," he quietly informed Caoimhe, falling into his own language to match her. "This horse is magnificent indeed."

Caoimhe swung her leg over Poe, sliding down his tall body. A tremor ran through her when Nuada politely caught her and carefully guided her to the ground. "I'm sure that he would enjoy carrying you," she murmured, stepping back quickly.

Nuada was silent, staring down at her. He shuddered, horribly aware that the moment he had touched the human, he had experienced a spike of pleasure, like a sensual jolt of promise flying through his blood. What was it about this woman that called to his most primal feelings? Forcing his fists to unclench, he turned to the horse standing quietly beside them. Next moment, he was on Poe's back and gone, leaving Caoimhe standing among the ancient oak trees. The dogs lit out after him, baying with joy.

Caoimhe hadn't covered much ground before the commotion from her dogs heralded Nuada's return. He emerged out of the trees, another elf with him on Poe. Caoimhe stepped off the path as they cantered toward her. Poe pulled up with a contented nicker, briefly bunting Caoimhe's shoulder, then stepping so that his riders were beside her.

"This is Loro, the healer who cared for you," Nuada informed her as Loro dismounted. Caoimhe was unnerved: Loro was bowing to her! "I want him to check your condition, Guardian. I… regret that I hurt you grievously, and that you will be recovering for a while yet," Nuada forced himself to admit, keeping his tone light.

Caoimhe stumbled back as Loro drew close. "Thank you, I have my own physician, Highness!" she exclaimed, "You need not trouble yourself with me."

"I was the one to hurt you, and I will see you healed, human," Nuada bit out. He nodded sharply for Loro to continue. Smiling disarmingly, Loro reached toward Caoimhe. Nuada neatly directed Poe forward as Caoimhe drew stubbornly back, blocking Caoimhe's retreat. "Do not think to defy me or disobey me, woman!" Nuada snapped, looking down at Caoimhe. "I do this for your own good!"

Loro closed in on Caoimhe quickly, before she caused Nuada to completely lose his tenuous hold on his temper. He gently tilted her face up to look into her eyes, running his hands over the wounds on her head. He examined her arms, closing his eyes as he studied the damage through the cloth of her riding gear. Next, he firmly linked his hand with hers, holding her by her good shoulder when she tried to shy away, horrified that he wanted to look inside her mind. Caoimhe exhaled sharply when she felt his presence in her thoughts.

*_Be at peace, Guardian,_* Loro thought gently, assessing how well she was recovering from Nuada's first foray into her mind, *_I'm not trying to steal your secrets or trespass on your private memories. I only need to see how well you are healing._*

Next, Loro settled his hand firmly on Caoimhe's chest, keeping his controlling hold on her shoulder. He tilted his head, considering the strength and rhythm of her heart. A slight frown marred the smooth line of his mouth, and he glanced up to meet Nuada's sharp gaze. Without removing his hand from Caoimhe's chest, he offered his other palm to Nuada. Nuada linked hands, cocking his head quizzically. Loro's frown was echoed by Nuada's.

Caoimhe's eyes narrowed as she looked between them. Her anxiety increased the labour of her heart; Nuada immediately began the spell of life and power, transmitting it through Loro to Caoimhe. Caoimhe gasped as she felt her heart beat more slowly and strongly. She stared up at Nuada with huge eyes, pulling away from Loro with a soft cry. _They were controlling her heart!_ _It wasn't enough that they could trespass in her mind, they could casually highjack her heart too!_

She felt tears of rage and embarrassment gather on her lids: she had been born with a malformed heart, and once the crown fragment had entered her, any possibility of diagnostic imaging or surgery was out. The family could not risk the crown fragment being exposed, and so Caoimhe had grown up with this weakness hanging over her, the spectre of sudden death. She _hated_ feeling weak! She also hated crying, which made her want to cry all the more. How _dare_ they push her around when she was too tired and hurt to stand up for herself! She backed away, her fists clenching, then wheeled around and sprinted off the path and into the undergrowth. Her dogs lit out after her, while Poe danced anxiously on the spot, too polite to disregard Nuada.

Nuada scowled as he watched Caoimhe disappear. He dismounted lightly, sending Poe off after her. Sharing a frustrated look with Loro, he said, "Return to the court. I will follow the girl and see that she comes to no harm, without her being aware of my presence." Nuada paused, looking broodingly into the woods where Caoimhe had disappeared. "I have been charged with keeping the Guardian alive and well," he said, fury burning in his face. "_Find_ a way to strengthen her heart. She's not dying on my watch, not if I have any say in the matter."

Loro nodded. "As you command, Your Highness. She is otherwise healing well. I will study the problem and find a solution."

Nodding in return, Nuada stalked after Caoimhe, disappearing from sight as he masked himself in elfin glamour.

She hadn't gone far. Nuada discovered her standing, surrounded by her animals, staring into the peaceful depth of the forest. Despite the tears slipping from her bright eyes, her expression was icy. Nuada stopped near by, studying her face curiously, automatically listening to the rhythm of her heart. It was well enough now, despite her pain – there was no need to instil it with his magic. He smiled ruefully, shaking his head to think that the shape of his penance was to husband this human's pitiful heart, forcing it to live, when his natural inclination was to speed its demise.

"Does she always behave like this?" Nuada murmured, too softly for Caoimhe to hear. Poe's ears angled toward him, while the dogs moved restlessly around them.

_I've never seen her cry before, _Poe nickered thoughtfully.

One of the dogs nosed Caoimhe's hand, whimpering, _that's because she doesn't cry over her injuries. But when I was hit by a car, and she thought that I would die, she cried like a lost puppy._

_Yes, _another dog panted, _so much so that she could hardly breathe. She hurt herself, crying that hard. She refused to leave you._

_I remember her falling asleep pressed as close to me as she could, as if that would save me. She was exhausted from anguish and fear for my wellbeing._

_I wonder, _another dog sneezed, _would her crown piece have saved you, if she hadn't been so sad?_

Nuada straightened up, looking piercingly at the dogs. "The crown piece saved you?" he demanded, speaking more loudly than he intended to.

Caoimhe started, spinning to look in his direction. She frowned. It had sounded for a minute as if someone was speaking sharply, somewhere off in the forest. She certainly wouldn't put it past Nuada to come after her, though she hoped she had made it clear she wanted to be alone.

The dog nearest to Nuada amiably rubbed its muzzle, sneezing loudly as if it was the source of the sound. The other dogs looked reproachfully at Nuada while Caoimhe relaxed, her face frosting over again.

_Yes, she healed me. She hates it when her human is sad. She cherishes her, as we do, and wants only the best for her. That's why she put her human into heat for you last night, when you were with her._

"_What_ did you say?!" Nuada gasped, retaining just enough control not to alarm Caoimhe again.

_When you were with her last night, _the dog repeated, cocking its head to the side. _When you tried to mount her. That is what you were doing, isn't it? I don't understand all the toing and froing when your type mates._

Nuada was speechless. Could the third crown piece be the source of his inexplicable attraction for the human crying silently before him?

The youngest of the dogs turned suddenly toward Nuada with a soft growl. _Then you wanted to hit her with your bright stick! Threaten her again, and I'll bite you!_

_Hush! _The eldest of the dogs, a spaniel, barked softly. She turned to Nuada, wagging her tail. _He doesn't mean that. We know that the crown piece tried to put you into heat too, but that she only made you angry. The crown piece wanted you both to stop being sad. She was unhappy, when your father scolded her. She won't do it again._

_Oh, won't 'she'?_ Nuada thought, looking sharply at Caoimhe, vividly recalling the way his blood fired when he touched her. _And Father knows? What devilry is at work here?!_

Caoimhe interrupted his racing thoughts. She impatiently wiped the wetness away and sprang onto Poe's back with an athletic grace that impressed Nuada, despite himself. She unerringly pointed Poe in the direction of her parent's house and set him cantering back toward the path. Still masked, Nuada ran easily beside her, playfully weaving in and out with the dogs.

When Caoimhe came to her parent's house and dismounted before Poe had slowed, Nuada had to stop himself from darting forward and catching her. She landed neatly, running beside Poe as they drew up in front of the grand stone manor house. She turned him out in a paddock near the main building, then walked thoughtfully up to the house. She was visibly shedding her turmoil and radiating a tranquillity that gave no hint of the challenges she was facing. Nuada slipped into the house with her, as she held the door to allow her dogs to enter. He followed her into the drawing room.

"Caoimhe!" Heather came forward, enveloping Caoimhe in a long hug. A man followed – the father, Nuada supposed. They settled Caoimhe on a couch and arranged themselves comfortably around her. Heather poured tea and pressed food on her daughter, clucking at her thinness.

Nuada leaned back against a wall, largely ignoring their prattle. He studied Caoimhe, contemplating what he had learned from her in their short acquaintance. He tried to work out why the third crown fragment considered her to be such a key to victory for his people. What special knowledge did she have? Or was it some virtue in her, that Nuada needed to understand to understand mankind – or perhaps a key weakness?

Their conversation caught his attention. They were discussing the threat against the third crown fragment and the Children of the Forest.

"Caoimhe, tell us what happened in Ethiopia!" Heather demanded. "We are hearing more and more disturbing news about the plan to force our clan to surrender the crown piece. You told us that you would defeat that plot by going to Africa, but I still don't understand how!"

Caoimhe looked grim. "I told you that the crown piece asked to go, to protect us and the Treaty."

The father, Declan, frowned. "Despite generations of the Fae crown piece being handed down the matriarchal line, I still don't understand how it could ask for anything. It is just a piece of metal."

"Hardly, Declan!" Heather snorted, "The crown piece is full of magic and life. I am very envious that it chose you over me, Caoimhe: I wish that I had been given the chance to bear it. And perhaps to hear its voice. So did my mother, who never heard a thing, though she carried the crown fragment for decades." Heather looked with pride at Caoimhe. "You are blessed indeed, Caoimhe, to have heard its voice, all your life."

Caoimhe smiled radiantly. Nuada's heart tightened at the way her face became luminous with joy. The strength of his emotion caught him off guard. He shifted warily, guarding against the enchantment on the Guardian. He would _not_ allow a bit of meddling goblin magic to manipulate him.

"It is amazing, Mamaí. I can't put into words what it's like. I am sorry that she did choose me so quickly, rather than pass to me through you. Who knows that she wouldn't have talked to you too." She took a deep breath. "What I have to say now must stay between these walls and we three. The crown fragment asked me to take her to the Erta Ale Volcano in Ethiopia…" Caoimhe paused, pain eloquent in every line of her posture, "To die."

The parents gasped. Heather began to cry, coming quickly and hugging Caoimhe.

"Dead?" Declan whispered, white faced. "But how, why?"

"I threw her into lava, Dadaí. Her magic died when she melted."

"But the Golden Army? How could you put the magical folk at risk?!"

Nuada couldn't believe what the man was saying! Another human, thinking of the safety of the magical folk over his own kind!

"I was the Guardian. If this will hurt the Children of the Forest, I alone am to blame," Caoimhe said with quiet authority. "But I had to trust the crown piece: the magical folk are her children, beloved to her. She chose to die for them."

The three fell quiet for a moment, contemplating a life in which the crown piece was no longer the family's sacred trust.

"We _must_ uphold the Treaty!" Caoimhe bit out, clenching her small fists. She started to pace along the large room, not realising that she was passing very close to Nuada with each turn. "No one but us can know that the Crown of Bethmoora will never be reformed, and that the Golden Army will remain dormant. I think the best thing to do is have the family spread the word that the fragment was actually lost from our line in the 10th century, when it was stolen. We know that the people plotting to steal the piece believe we reclaimed it. If we undermine that belief, then perhaps we can weaken the threat to us." Caoimhe took a deep breath, turning to face her parents' intent regard. "If I am kidnapped, that is the story I plan to espouse, no matter what they do to me. You must do so as well, as must the rest of the inner circle." Caoimhe fell silent, her face grim as she considered the problem. "Alternatively, I may claim that it is all a fairy tale, and that I don't believe it – especially if you are there too, and you claim it was stolen. That too would be an effective strategy, I think. The extended family can remain in their present state of ignorance. But no one but us three can know that the fragment is actually gone!"

"You're right, my girl," Declan said thoughtfully. "There are too many people who are held in check by the threat of the Golden Army. So be it: we will never speak of this again, or even think of it. Our generation will continue as if the fragment still exists, but subtly spread a rumour that it may not be with us. Your generation should show modern incredulity and dismiss the whole story. That will sow discontent and uncertainty in our enemies. Well done, Caoimhe! I can see why the crown piece chose you to host it!"

Caoimhe smiled radiantly again, blossoming under her father's praise. "Pray that it is enough," she said quietly. "We are still bound to uphold the Treaty, by any means required." She came back to their sides, looking tired, and joined hands with them. For a long moment, they remained silent, holding onto each other, as if that fragile contact could protect them. Caoimhe sighed, breaking the spell. "I'm going to head home now. I still need to recover after that trip. I had no idea how jetlagged I would feel, or how draining food poisoning is!"

"Food poisoning?!" Declan exclaimed, looking sharply from Caoimhe to his wife. "You never mentioned anything about that, Heather!"

"Aye, I did not," Heather said tartly, "Our daughter was in Ethiopia! Of course she had food poisoning!"

"I think that all non-African tourists do, Dadaí." Caoimhe said mildly. "I was lucky that I didn't have too severe a case. But I am certainly tired." She walked with them to the door, her dogs jumping up excitedly. They raced out onto the grand front lawn.

"Do you need a lift home, Pet?" Declan asked.

"No need: I rode Poe over. He will see me safely back. I will call you tomorrow." She kissed her parents, leaving them on the steps to the manor house, and walked thoughtfully toward the paddock.


	7. Sharing Wisdom

Chapter 7: Sharing Wisdom

Nuada was waiting beside Poe. Caoimhe hesitated when she saw him, a naked flash of exasperation crossing her face before she controlled herself. She may as well have shouted at him. Nuada was surprised that, instead of answering with anger, he was amused by her unguarded discourtesy. He frowned, examining if this was his true reaction, or borne of a bit of meddling goblin magic.

Caoimhe looked cautiously at Nuada, trying to judge his mood. She glanced back to confirm that her parents weren't watching, then bobbed a sketchy curtsey in his direction. Nuada raised his eyebrows: without skirts, her movement came out as a funny sort of a half-bow, half-crouch. But the proper respect was there, in sharp contrast to the dirty look she had thrown him. He inclined his head a fraction in grudging acknowledgment.

As she drew up beside him, Caoimhe frowned, obviously suspicious that he had been a silent witness to her private meeting with her parents. His words, confirming this thought, brought a flare of colour to her pale face.

"Thank you, Guardian," Nuada forced himself to say, struggling not to reveal how foul such words tasted when spoken to a human. "I had no idea that any humans would place the wellbeing of anything but themselves and mankind first. You and your parents have amazed me."

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "How _dare_ you snoop on my private conversation!" she exploded, forgetting both her nerves and her inherent courtesy in her anger. "You have no right, royalty or no!"

Again, Nuada was surprised not to feel an answering burst of fury. Somehow, Caoimhe had slipped under his guard. If she only behaved like the rest of her hollow kind, he knew that he would be incandescent with rage. Instead, though it pained him to admit it, her behaviour was more like that of a Fey, the very people he sought to protect from her kind. He smiled ruefully, leaning against Poe. "On the contrary, you are now my subject. My royal father and I have both pledged to guard you, as one of our own."

Caoimhe kicked up some of the loose soil in the paddock, wishing she could kick _him_. "But why?" she growled, glaring up at Nuada. "You put yourself at risk by associating with me, Highness. I have done enough to harm your people. Please don't compound my sin!"

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. "How little you know. You're as ignorant as a child." Nuada frowned, annoyed by the way Caoimhe was pacing back and forth. He caught her by one arm, forcing her to stop. When a bolt of primal want roared through him, he narrowed his eyes and thought with all his might, *_Do not even _think_ of trying to control me, crown piece! I am Prince Nuada, Silverlance, not some puppet for you to play with!*_

There was no suggestion from Caoimhe that she heard his snarling thoughts, but to Nuada's great relief, an abashed rush of lovely music flowed over him, erasing the painful need that had pounded with each beat of his strong heart. The third crown piece fell silent again, though Nuada was well aware of its power, covering the human like an exquisite perfume.

Nuada squared his shoulders, carefully forcing himself to put aside his hatred for her kind. It was easier to do than he thought it would be. Nuada frowned suspiciously. He would have to reflect on that later, when free of the influence of both the human and the power she faithfully carried. Now, it was time for some honest talk.

He turned Caoimhe to face him and held her still, pinned by the strength of his golden gaze. "You have protected us by obeying your crown piece, not harmed us. Far from now putting me at risk, you help me by showing me the dangers we face. You are surely the first human I have met who _hasn't_ sinned against us!" he said quietly, searching her face for evidence of understanding. "Human though you are, you have served my father and my kingdom well, Guardian."

Nuada took a deep breath, aware of how warily she was watching him. He knew that she was waiting for him to threaten her, to lose his temper and show her just how deeply he hated her kind. He had shown her nothing else, after all, in his brief acquaintance with her. But despite her fear of what he might do, she still held his best interests before her own. Nuada felt chastened by her quiet courage. Of all things, he was finding value in a mere human! Nuada grinned suddenly, knowing that only a few days ago, he would have struck anyone who would have dared suggest such a base action to him.

Caoimhe caught her breath, her heart soaring at Nuada's expression. Without thinking, she muttered, "I'm neither ignorant, nor a child!", then cringed at the crassness of her behaviour. She dug her toe into the soil restlessly, painfully aware of the pressure of his hands on her shoulders.

"No?" Nuada snorted. "Though your meagre handful of years may mark you as an adult by human standards, you have no more insight than a child would about the service you provide my father," he said firmly. "And that makes your devotion all the more remarkable. Much as it galls me to say it, we are truly indebted to you, a human. As payment for that debt, I have vowed to guard your life and wellbeing."

Caoimhe was stunned by his last words. She tilted her head, searching his face, her brow knotted. At length, her jaw tightened and she stepped back, glad that he let her do so.

Nuada was startled as Caoimhe knelt before him. Looking up at him, she said, "Highness, you don't owe me a thing. Please feel free of any vow you made. You are not accountable for me!" Before he could respond, she stood up, glancing back toward the house. She smiled apologetically. "My parents will no doubt be out soon to check on why I haven't left. Can we please move on, Prince?"

Taking a deep breath, Nuada stepped aside, disappearing from Caoimhe's gaze as he did so. She stared somewhat grimly at the spot where he had stood. Shaking her head with a frown, Caoimhe turned to Poe. Masked in glamour, Nuada walked with Caoimhe as she led Poe to the gate, and silently across the front lawn. Only when they were back in the forest did he drop the shield. Caoimhe immediately stopped, turning to face him. She resolutely met his gaze, appearing to marshal her courage. Intrigued, he eased the thin line of his mouth and held his peace.

"Permission to speak frankly, Highness?" she ventured, unsure of how to talk to him, studying his face. All the stories her crown piece had raised her with were of little help in knowing how to deal with the actual prince.

Nuada raised his eyebrows. "Granted, Guardian," he responded politely, keeping his amusement to himself. She was like an awkward child pretending to be an adult when she said silly human things like that. Perhaps it was just as well, he mused: he could simultaneously feel his ever present hatred of humans, standing like an old friend at his side, and an indulgent tolerance for the human before him, recognition that she was doing her best in a situation that was not of her choosing.

"The third crown piece entered me when I was just an infant," she said, not realising that Nuada already knew this. "I can't recall a time when she wasn't with me, telling me of the Children of the Forest, of your family. Of… you." Caoimhe took a deep breath. "She adored you, Highness; you especially. When I was a child, she told me all about your strength and skill, your passion and devotion. I grew up with tales of your accomplishments, and of how dearly the crown piece loved and valued you. When I was old enough to understand, she told me of how you walked away from your father, when he chose to give my ancestor part of the Royal Crown. Of how in separating my crown piece from her siblings, King Balor also broke the royal family." Caoimhe paused, searching Nuada's face, worried that she might enrage him.

Nuada kept his expression neutral, wondering how much she knew. Not enough to understand what had happened when her crown fragment gave up its physical form, anyway. Was this part of what he needed to understand, to understand why she was key to the victory of his people?

A sudden thought struck Nuada, like a lightning strike. Or was it perhaps her way of telling him that she loved him, as she obviously did, without having to admit it to him? How could she not love him, flooded as she was with the love her crown fragment had for him? Nuada shifted uncomfortably, seeing love shining behind Caoimhe's soft words and in her bright eyes – he welcomed the adoration of the third crown piece, but what use did he have for a _human's_ love? Was the ghost of the third crown piece so entwined with its human host that he would have to contemplate tolerating the one to enjoy the other?

Looking at her with his new understanding, Caoimhe's failure to act as he expected of a vile human was starting to make sense to Nuada. She had been raised to be their servant and champion, shaped by the third crown piece to fulfil her role admirably. But her family? Nuada was all the more intrigued that her parents appeared to value his people as well, without the benefit of the crown piece sharing its memories with them. He would have to search the manor house, and if required, her parent's memories, for more insight into this amazing truth.

"I think that the third crown fragment felt responsible for the rift between you and your father," Caoimhe continued. "I know that she worried about you, about your pain that you were separated from your family, and the hurt you had received at the hands of humans."

Nuada's jaw tightened as Caoimhe's words unwillingly threw him back in time, to the battles between his people and hers. He remembered with perfect clarity the endless waves of humans, charging with their crude weapons raised, running to die on his shining blades. Remembered the stink of blood; the screams of hate, of terror, of pain, as humans and magical folk both suffered and died. Recalled vividly his own pain when the humans managed to break through his guard and cut him; his fury that he couldn't prevent his wounds from becoming Nuala's wounds, his pain her pain. His fists clenched as he looked back, reliving the unthinkable.

Caoimhe's soft voice recalled him from these dark thoughts. She was staring up at him with big eyes, watching him carefully, concern shining in her expression.

"She… ached to help you, to heal you." Caoimhe faltered, hanging her head. "I can't begin to make up for the harm inflicted on you by my people, Highness, however much I wish I could." She forced her gaze back to his. "I wish I could so much, but all I can do is try to ensure that I won't add to your hurt. I don't see how guarding me will bring you anything but harm, Highness."

Nuada studied Caoimhe, oddly touched that despite her aching body, screaming reminders of how he had attacked her, her first concern was his wellbeing. Imagine that: a human, desperate to help rather than harm him, even though he had wronged her! His royal father was correct that he had much to learn from her. That thought distracted him from his anger, making the memories of the battle field regress, distancing him from his pain.

"Caoimhe, there are many, many aspects of this situation that you cannot understand. You don't have the wisdom of millennia, as we do." Nuada raised a hand imperiously, silencing her arguments. "Trust me about that! The crown piece you carried explained much to my father that it was unable to tell you." He took a deep breath and then admitted, "Already, you are helping me heal: by obeying your crown fragment, you have reunited my father and I, and the royal family is whole once again. I rejoice that I have my family back!" Nuada looked sternly at Caoimhe, reminding himself that he needed to be honest with both the human before him, staring warily up at him, and with himself. "And I promise you by all I hold sacred that I regret attacking you just because you're human, without first confirming that you were my enemy. As long as you faithfully protect my people, I will never again seek to harm you."

Caoimhe smiled shyly, surprised by the strength of his emotion. She realised that he would be as passionate a friend as he was an enemy; that he gave all he had to his relationships. "Thank you, Highness. I will to the best of my ability faithfully protect you and your people, according to the Treaty and under the charge placed on my family by King Balor." She paused, biting her lip. "But you need not apologise to me. I would never blame you for attacking me, knowing how badly humans treated you. Nor do I hold you to your vow to protect me. Your wellbeing is far too important for you to risk associating with me, or any human."

Nuada was amazed at how easily and perfectly she forgave him. Could this mere human, this chit of a girl, have grace he was yet to find?

"You have also shown me that not all humans are my enemies, that some of your kind are willing to share the earth, rather than conquer all life on it!" Nuada said quietly, wonder dancing over his white face. "I _will_ guard you, Caoimhe, whatever you think: you cannot release me from my vow, or my father from his. But do not worry that you will bring me to harm; as I have said, you will rather help me find a solution to our ancient conflict. Both my father and I realise that you are important to us in this way, as your crown fragment has assured us."

Caoimhe was very pale, staring up at Nuada. She was unnerved that he assigned such value to her.

Nuada studied Caoimhe, considering whether he should continue. He was pleased that throughout their conversation, Caoimhe's heart had beat steadily, despite the depth of her emotion. She wasn't receptive to his words, and that amused him, as he was very aware that he had essentially repeated to her what his father had said to him about the lessons of wisdom and clear thinking. Based on his own experience, he thought that she perhaps needed time to think about what he had said, and see the truth in it. Perhaps it was best to leave their discussion at that, until she was ready to come to terms with her new role in his world.

"You are exhausted… child," he said provocatively, offering her a strained smile in an attempt to ease his taunt. She smiled hesitantly in return. "You do need to recover. May I ride with you?"

Caoimhe looked surprised at his request. "Y-yes."

Nuada plucked Caoimhe up and settled her across Poe's back, then sprang lightly onto the horse behind her. She held herself rigid, aware that while Nuada was sitting close, he was careful not to touch her. Did she disgust him so deeply, that he couldn't bear the contact? He didn't give her long to dwell on that possibility. Next moment, Poe was off, and Caoimhe was amazed at how easily Nuada controlled the stallion, racing him through the woods. Poe trumpeted with joy as he stretched out, sprinting with such smooth movement that his riders were perfectly balanced. The dogs bayed joyously, racing to keep up. Nuada gave Poe his head, letting him set the pace. Caoimhe judged that he covered the distance in record time. At Nuada's direction, Poe stopped by Caoimhe's house, dancing on the spot.

Nuada was pleased to see his father's butcher guards well represented around Caoimhe's house, the shimmer of glamour hanging over them. His father must be inside. He dismounted, then gently lifted Caoimhe down. She allowed him to do so with good grace, though she was already dismounting when he took charge and pulled her from Poe's tall back. Nuada firmly escorted Caoimhe up to the house. "I will take care of Nightimmering, then send him home."

Caoimhe frowned. "Sorry, who?"

"Nightimmering. Your stallion."

"Nightimmering! Really?"

Nuada raised his eyebrows. "You know Elfin, Caoimhe. You could have asked him his name at any time."

She smiled tiredly. "I do hope he hasn't been insulted by us calling him by the wrong name, all this time!"

"He's fine. He knows you're just a human," Nuada shrugged.

That startled a laugh from Caoimhe. "Fair enough," she murmured, as he led her into the house. She wanted to comment on how he treated her house as his own, but felt that would be unwise. Perhaps it was a royal thing, and she should accept it politely. She was afraid that questioning his right to commandeer her house might ignite Nuada's anger. Caoimhe thought that is was only a matter of time before he would be reminded exactly _why_ he hated her kind, and he would strike out. She certainly didn't want to be the one to provoke him, or to suffer the consequences. Nuada had told her that she was helping him heal, a possibility that made her heart dance with joy, but he had been hurt so severely for so long that she thought his healing would take a long time too.

"Now, you must rest," Nuada ordered Caoimhe, tilting her head up to look sternly into her eyes. "You must regain your strength, and recover from your injuries."

She nodded, suspecting it would be as useless to point out to him that he couldn't order her around as to question his calm claim of dominion. She didn't really believe that she was one of his subjects, despite what he and his king had said. _No_ human could be, after all the bad blood between the two groups! She might be some weird sort of a pet, but no more. She chose not to voice these thoughts, not realising that her opinion was playing clearly across her expressive face, easy for Nuada to read. He narrowed his eyes, his ready anger spiking, as he registered her unspoken contempt for his commands.

Before he could react, Nuala distracted him. Nuada smiled as she came out to meet them, hand maidens with her. Caoimhe caught her breath at the joy on Nuada's face, then looked to see what had pleased him so much. She frowned, puzzled, as she couldn't see the other elves, masked as they were with their glamour. She was aware, however, of a fresh wave of the same evocative scent that Nuada carried, and wondered if other magical folk were there. They could hide themselves from the eyes of humans, but didn't seem to be able to, or see the need to, hide their perfume. Close on that thought was the realisation that she had inhaled that same scent at her parent's house, when pacing to and fro in their drawing room. Had she been sensing Nuada? Very likely, as he pretty much admitted to spying on her meeting. Or had there been others there as well? Caoimhe frowned, wondering how many magical folk were around, and if she could do anything about it.

_*My ladies have prepared food, Brother. Would you be pleased to eat?*_

_*Beautiful Sister, I cannot stay that long. I have work to do, to learn more of the threat from the humans who think to steal the third crown piece. The Guardian will do well by it – she needs to regain her strength.*_

Nuada glanced down at Caoimhe as he spoke silently to Nuala, finding Caoimhe watching him with an irritated look on her face. When he met her eyes, Nuada felt an easy sense of companionship warm him. He froze suspiciously, but it took him less than a second to realise that his reaction wasn't due to the magic of the third crown piece. This human, of all things, pleased him by her presence. She had indeed slipped under his guard, though he couldn't quite determine when or how. It must be because she kept surprising him, now that he had followed his father's advice and taken the time to study her. He grinned radiantly, laughing at himself. _Proud Prince Nuada_, he thought suddenly, _stubbornly defeating the long years of your exile through the power of your hatred for humans, now content for a mere human girl to stand beside you! Now, when you're reunited with your family and your people, and have no need for other companionship!__ Whatever next?_

Caoimhe caught her breath, startled by his emotion. She looked away quickly, colour flaring across her soft skin. She reminded him of the maidens he used to tease, ages ago when he was a youth at court, still discovering how to deal with the fair sex. Amused by this recollection, Nuada would have raised Caoimhe's face to meet his gaze, but for the wave of emotion that washed over him from his twin. He met Nuala's golden eyes, intrigued that she was radiating a dark emotion that felt rather like jealousy. She looked stormy, head high and lovely lips tightly drawn. Looking cautiously at her, Nuada continued, _*The Guardian is too tired to deal with more of us today: remain masked to her eyes, unless she tries to exert herself, and you need to school her. She is to rest, and recover. Later, I will send Healer Loro to check her. I'll be with you in a few minutes to pay my regards to our King, and share what I've learned from the Guardian, before I leave. This morning has brought many revelations!*_

Nuada returned his attention to Caoimhe, firmly herding her into the kitchen. He settled her at the table, where food was emitting mouth-watering aromas. Caoimhe raised her eyebrows, grimly thinking about how she was at the mercy of Nuada and his people. She didn't deserve it, and indeed, rather resented their casual assumption of control over her life. She was neither a child nor a pet, and quite possessive of her right to order her own life, within the constraints of the trust placed on her. Caoimhe frowned, wondering how much of a battle regaining her self-determination would be. Clearly, Nuada was accustomed to being obeyed.

"Eat, Caoimhe: this food is for you. Trust us to take care of you."

Nuada watched thoughtfully as mixed emotions played over Caoimhe's expressive face. He was aware that while she wasn't happy about his easy assumption of control over her, she was unconsciously pleased with his attention. Childlike though he found her, she was woman enough for that, as he was man enough to recognise her interest. More intriguing to Nuada was a refreshing hint of exasperation that suggested that the human would soon stand up to him and make him work to convince her to obey his commands. He knew of the wellspring of strength within her, and looked forward to her overcoming her awe and showing him her true depth.

Caoimhe nodded again, very conscious of Nuada's study of her. She stood up, flashing a small smile as his eyes narrowed, then pointedly washed her hands before sitting again and picking up her utensils. Nuada smiled appreciatively. He touched her head briefly, as if in blessing, and then was gone.

Masked by glamour, Nuada turned away from Caoimhe to discover his lovely twin by the door, watching him. Nuala was also concealed in elfin glamour, and so, invisible to Caoimhe's eyes. Nuada glanced back: Caoimhe was obediently eating, a thoughtful look on her expressive face. He moved to Nuala's side, frowning slightly. Had she been spying on him?

Nuala followed Nuada out of the room. He looked speculatively at her, seeking her mood through the link between them. Her feelings seemed to be unsettled, undulating flashes of dark and light. Nuada stopped in front of her, forcing her to face him. _*Lovely Sister, what is bothering you?*_ he thought.

Nuala gave him a cold look. She tried to push past him. Nuada caught her by one arm and pulled her back impatiently. He heaved a quick breath. _*Tell me what is wrong!*_ he demanded, holding onto his control.

Nuala shook his hand off, that stormy look crossing her sweet features. _*Would you handle me as you do the human?*_ she snapped. _*Bully me into answering?*_

Nuada searched her face. _*If necessary, yes, dear Sister. But why would it be necessary? Why would you not wish to answer?*_

Nuala fixed a surprisingly steely look on Nuada, as if daring him to touch her again. _*_Nothing_ is wrong, my brother. Father is waiting for you.*_ She swept past him, and into the drawing room. Frowning, Nuada followed.

King Balor was there. Nuala went to his side, sinking gracefully onto a cushion beside him. He smiled lovingly at her, stroking her shining hair, before looking up to meet his son's eyes. Nuada bowed courteously, then sat in the chair Balor indicated. Balor waved his guards and courtiers from the room before turning his attention onto his son. Soon, they were deep in conversation, as Nuada told him of Caoimhe's family and what he had learned.


	8. A Rival?

Chapter 8: A Rival?

Over the following months, Caoimhe was never left alone, though her elfin companions were often hidden by glamour, gifting her with a façade of normalcy. The royal court spent long periods with her, to allow King Balor access to the Guardian and the magic she carried. He was determined to divine how her crown piece intended her to help liberate his people. Nuada came to the house daily, also seeking to understand the role Caoimhe was to play in his war against mankind. True to his vow, he saw to it that Caoimhe was guarded diligently, and that she recovered from the wounds he had inflicted on her.

Nuada had made a point to heal Caoimhe's weak heart. Like Balor, Nuada was increasingly convinced that Caoimhe _was_ important in their future victory over her people, and so, he would not allow her to die before she had fulfilled her service to them. He and Loro had determined quite quickly that her crown piece had strengthened her heart when it shared her body, and that in melting the piece of the royal crown, she had lost much of this protection. They had found ways to infuse her with more magic, weaving ancient power into her heart, compensating for its failure to form correctly before birth.

Nuada had intended to heal Caoimhe with her consent and knowledge, but when he had broached the subject, Caoimhe had lost her temper. He expected her to react badly, based on her initial reaction in the woods, but the level of her anger surprised him. Rather than crying and running from him, she had turned rosy with indignation and glared at him as fiercely as any foe ever had. Standing ferociously before him with head high and eyes fiery, she had told him eloquently and imaginatively exactly what he could do with his desire to help her.

Nuada had been livid. _No one_, not his parents, not Nuala, not his closest friends and advisors, had _ever_ dared speak to him as the diminutive human did! Despite the murderous look he gave her, and the way he had stepped forward, fists clenched, she had the courage – or the stupidity – to continue berating him. As she had spat words at him like weapons, she had outlined a ludicrous program that was so anatomically impossible (for even the most flexible elf), that Nuada's love of the ridiculous had sparked, and he had suddenly dissolved into laughter.

That he had the nerve to laugh at her had made her all the more furious, and she had growled incoherently, small fists clenched, glaring up at him as if she'd like nothing more than to smack him. Shrugging as if he'd lost interest, Nuada had turned away. And in doing so, he'd almost missed it when Caoimhe's heart beat an erratic, racing tattoo, and then fell silent. He had whirled back to her. She was frozen, eyes wide, listening as intently as he was for her heart to resume beating. When it didn't, she swayed and started to crumple.

Nuada had immediately seized her, biting out the words of power and life. Loro had hurried over, helping him lower Caoimhe gently to the stone floor. He augmented Nuada's magic, willing Caoimhe to live. Both elves were aware of the power of her crown piece, begging Caoimhe's heart to beat, shimmering over the unconscious human. Her heart had responded weakly, struggling despite the energy they infused into it. Nuala had appeared at their side, laying her own crown piece onto Caoimhe's still body. When it added its voice to the combined power lying over Caoimhe, her heart had gained a little strength. But still, it had been so faint, so weak, that Nuada had feared they would lose her.

He had only known one sure way to draw her back from death's threshold. Aware of the power of his own heart, and the tie he had with the third crown piece – _his_ crown piece – Nuada had chosen to bind Caoimhe's life to his own. He had sent his sister flying to bring their father. With his family's cooperation, he had used the magic of the crown pieces to link Caoimhe's heart to his. Now, their hearts beat together, strong and united.

The crown pieces had provided Nuada with an unexpected gift: they had also linked Nuada to Caoimhe's mind, allowing him constant access to the peaceful garden of her thoughts. Nuada was grateful for this. Since he had returned with Caoimhe from her parent's house, he'd not been alone with her, despite his attempts to isolate her. He could order his subjects away, but not his sister, and Nuala had decided that he was not to be left alone with the Guardian. Whether this was to protect him or the human, he didn't quite know. He just knew that Nuala's feelings were confused and confusing, and that if she had her way, he wouldn't even be allowed to see Caoimhe. Nuala's behaviour was an ongoing sore point, but Nuada kept his peace, realising that his sister was oddly thrown by the presence of the Guardian. He also kept his new ability to share Caoimhe's thoughts to himself.

Being able to join Caoimhe in the privacy of her mind was surprisingly useful for Nuada. She didn't think at all like he expected her to, as he thought all humans must think. Disturbed by this revelation, he had studied her all the more carefully, conscious of the need to understand humans so thoroughly that he would be able to predict their every move, when it came time to engage them in battle. He dwelt often in Caoimhe's mind, amused that when she thought she was talking to herself, she was actually addressing him. Unknowingly, she had told him much... he had discovered that she was well trained in international law, diplomacy, conflict resolution, economics, and modern warfare. Her crown piece had set her to learn all these disciplines, and learn them she had. In addition, her crown piece had forced her to do service in the human army, though Caoimhe had hated every second of her tenure there. Her first hand knowledge of modern tactics had provided her crown piece, and now Nuada, with much food for thought. He would have much to discuss with her, and much to teach her in return, once he was finally allowed free access to her.

Nuada was dismayed at the level of affection he was developing for the Guardian. He had come to terms with the way that the magic of the third crown piece made her extremely desirable to him, human though she was. Armed with that knowledge, he had been steadfast in his resistance of the siren spell of the magic pervading the girl.

What he hadn't anticipated was that Caoimhe herself would attract him, on her own merit. Where he expected himself to react with fury at her thoughts and actions, she kept catching him by surprise, often making him laugh. She always made him think, challenging his preconceptions about her race. With each day, she had grown in strength, and each day, had engaged in activities that reminded him again and again of her unwavering dedication to his people. She also unwittingly displayed how surprisingly accomplished she was, despite being so lamentably human.

Nuada understood better with each day how the third crown fragment had raised Caoimhe to suit his purposes perfectly, and in doing so, had knowingly or by chance, shaped her to be his perfect soulmate. Nuada was simultaneously horrified and intrigued by this discovery, and forced to come to the reluctant conclusion that Caoimhe was the third crown piece's gift to him; its way to heal his age-old pain, as it so strongly desired. Nuada was puzzled that the third crown piece would think that a mortal was ideal for him: Caoimhe's life span would be but a brief interlude to the elf, like an exquisite day of pleasure. Nuada wondered if the reward she would provide him, should he seek to win her heart and mind, would be worth the grief he would inevitably suffer if he gave her his love only to have her bright but short life extinguish, leaving him to face all the ages of the earth without her.

Nuada had much to ponder, what with his blossoming love for the Guardian, the threat his people faced, Nuala's hostile behaviour, and being reunited with his family. He felt alive in a way that he hadn't in centuries, being back in the thick of the action. His subterranean home had become a command centre, where he conferred with his father and his forces, and where he could think without interruption.

Usually, that was: he was in the middle of combat training, thinking about the threat against the third crown piece, when Nuala emerged from the shadows. Nuada stopped, surprised. Nuala had been the most determined chaperon for Caoimhe, sticking to her like a burr; what was she doing here? He crossed quickly to her. "Nuala! Is all well?" he demanded, grasping her arm.

Nuala looked coolly at Nuada, as if he was an ill-mannered puppy. It was very infuriating! She shook him off, moving fully into the light.

"All is well, Brother. Greetings to you too."

Nuada exhaled sharply. He cocked his head, studying Nuala. "Good. Then I will return to my training," he said, refusing to play her game. He waved toward the edge of the open area. "If you could move out of the way...?"

A hint of anger crossed her face, and he could feel her tension building. She swept toward the side, looking magnificent. Nuada resumed the energetic training sequence. All the while, the tension rose in his sister, filling him with fire and excitement at the clash of wills that was coming. He knew his sister too well to think that she was anything other than a worthy opponent, well versed in the art of courtly battle.

Nuala toyed with some of his metal work, sliding her gaze to him. Though she spoke softly, her words were clear over the sound of his deep breathing and footfalls. "The court is presently based in the woods, Brother. I thought you might like to know. The new palace is complete, and we will rule from there, now."

"Excellent." Nuada didn't pause in his training.

Nuala looked sharply at him, then returned to her seemingly casual examination of his possessions. "The position is of course convenient, to allow our father continued access to the third crown piece. He now talks of using the Guardian to bait the human thieves who plot against us, to bring them into the light."

Nuada frowned, continuing his exercises without answering. This was in fact part of the plan _he_ had suggested. Nuada's days had been very busy with the study of not just Caoimhe, but her parents as well, coming to understand their service to the Treaty, and how he would be able to use them to thwart the plot to use the royal crown against his people. He was deeply troubled by the information he was uncovering: as the third crown piece had perceived, this plot was nefarious indeed.

One of the most unwelcome aspects of the information he was uncovering was the increasingly undeniable conclusion that no human could be at the heart of the plot, but that magical folk must be behind it, willingly or not. Avardal was indeed somehow implicated in the plot, though Nuada couldn't work out if goblins were aiding the humans, seeking to throw his family down and regain control of the kingdom. Careful study of Caoimhe's memories had shown Nuada that the third crown piece had come to the conclusion that it could be used to control the bearers of its siblings, enslaving Balor and Nuala. Nuada wasn't sure exactly how it could be used in this way, but what was certain was that no mere human could have discovered how to use the crown piece to control his family. Nuada needed to determine who was at the heart of the plot against the Fey. So, he had resolutely denied the quiet voice within that fretted at the thought of Caoimhe being frightened or hurt, and proposed to dangle Caoimhe and her kin as bait, to tempt the others to act. He would use the human to his best advantage against his enemies, as he would any weapon in his arsenal, while still be mindful to guard the magic she carried.

The ever rising tension radiating from Nuala recalled Nuada from these thoughts. "Does he," he responded, without emotion.

Again the sharp look, while through the link he shared with his twin, he could feel her frustration with crystal clarity.

"Indeed he does, my brother. It would be a pity if the human was hurt, being the carrier of the crown piece's magic. But she is so headstrong, and will do as she pleases."

_Ah,_ thought Nuada, _now we get to the real reason you are here._

Impatient now, Nuada asked what she wanted him to ask. "And what does the headstrong human please to do, lovely Sister?"

"She refuses our help and protection, Brother," Nuala said, turning to watch Nuada dance with his silver lance. "Tonight, for example, she sent us away, so that she can keep company with her own kind."

That brought Nuada up, just as Nuala knew it would. He stopped abruptly, looking darkly at her.

"Is she unprotected?!" he growled, his white hand tightening on his lance. He knew Caoimhe shouldn't be, for he was in charge of her guards, but his sister had been behaving oddly indeed where Caoimhe was involved. Could she have sent the guards away?

Nuala affected not to hear his question. She resumed her study of his possessions.

"'So that she can keep company with her own kind'," Nuada repeated, his words clipped, looking shrewdly at his sister. "Are you telling me that she is entertaining a lover tonight?"

"How would I know, Brother?" she said with a shrug, pleased that he had understood her so well. "She wished for privacy, we gave it to her."

Nuala watched with a hint of a smile as Nuada seethed. He dimly felt her pleasure that she had riled him, and this made him all the angrier. Glaring at her, he turned on his heel, seized his other weapons, and stalked from the open exercise area.


	9. Courtly Intrigue

Chapter 9: Courtly Intrigue

Nuada used magic to transport himself to the woods by Caoimhe's house. The cool night wind whispered across his bare torso, drying him with feather kisses. He was luminous in the glow of moonlight on his white skin, his bright hair. He cloaked himself in glamour and stalked up to the house, pleased that Caoimhe's guards _were_ in attendance. He stopped by the commander of the force encircling the house. Breathing deeply, he put his hand up and snapped, "Report, Leste!"

The elf warrior immediately presented his own hand, meeting Nuada's gaze as the prince linked palms with him. Nuada's gaze drifted toward infinity as he reviewed the day, courtesy of Leste's memories. The royal court was in and out of the house as usual; Nuada saw himself come and go, marked by Leste's watchful eyes. Nuada stiffened with a soft growl as he saw a single human ride up to the house in the early evening. Caoimhe came out to meet him and his lovely Andalusian mount, her face shining with pleasure. She greeted both affectionately, hugging the human and kissing his cheek.

At this, Nuada clenched his fists, breaking contact with Leste. Unpalatable emotions flamed through him. He hadn't known what to do with Caoimhe's love, or if he even wanted it, any more than he had decided if he wanted to pursue his growing affection for her. And here was his answer: the thought that perhaps the choice had been taken from him, and that Caoimhe was giving herself to another, made him want to lash out like a wounded animal. He would have pushed past Leste and swept angrily into the house, sure that this man was the lover Nuala had alluded to, but Leste held his hand out again.

"The Guardian was joined by a number of humans, Sire. Would you be pleased to see the others?"

Nuada glared at Leste, his jaw working. Leste kept his face carefully neutral as he met Nuada's burning gaze. Exhaling sharply, Nuada joined hands again with Leste. He stared blindly at the house as he saw King Balor dismiss Nuala and all the court save his butcher guards. Nuada growled softly again, thinking of how his clever twin had covered her tracks – if he accused her of telling tales, she would counter with the information that when she left, the only human guest was a man for whom Caoimhe clearly felt great affection. In his exile, Nuada had _not_ missed the intrigue and innuendo of the court, at which Nuala excelled. He supposed he would have to master that art again, and quickly, to prevent Nuala from playing him like a fool in the future.

The humans hadn't been alone for long. Caoimhe's parents arrived within 10 or so minutes, then a woman with two small children pulled up. Caoimhe greeted them all with great affection, ushering them inside. When Nuada realised that the young family clearly belonged to the male who rode over, he was simultaneously weak with relief and angrier than ever.

He looked sharply at Leste as the report continued. He saw as the wife and children left right after dinner, leaving Caoimhe with her parents and the man – her brother, apparently – standing in front of the house. Masked in glamour, Balor stood within easy earshot, carefully listening to their conversation. They talked for another 10 – 15 minutes, faces grim; Nuada was sure that they were talking about the threat to their family and his kind. He would have to find out from his father. They too left, after which Balor and his guard talked briefly with Leste, ensuring that Caoimhe was well guarded, before they also departed.

Releasing Leste with a nod and a slight smile, Nuada walked to the front door, reviewing what he had seen. He was shaken by the strength of his response to the possibility that Caoimhe could love another, even though in his heart, he knew she didn't. The third crown piece had raised her to love him, and him alone. Still, the anger burned bright, and he found that he needed to confirm this. Squaring his shoulders, he stalked into the house.

Even though it made him feel weak, Nuada prowled quickly through Caoimhe's house, searching for evidence that Caoimhe was not faithful. He found no signs of a lover, either current or past. He relaxed fractionally, embarrassed and upset at how this thought tortured him. He needed to see Caoimhe, to reassure himself, but he was worried that his anger would lead him to act rashly with her. He had vowed to protect her wellbeing, even if that meant he must protect her from himself.

As he stood in her neat bedroom, thinking grimly of this and trying unsuccessfully to calm down, he suddenly realised that, at long last, he was alone with the Guardian! Why was he wasting time agonising? He turned quickly on his heel and went to her.

Caoimhe was at the kitchen sink, singing softly as she finished the washing up. Nuada stopped close behind Caoimhe, breathing in the perfume of the magic on her. Despite his attempt to control himself, the idea Nuala had planted in his mind made him want to punish Caoimhe. It didn't matter that he had no reason to believe Nuala was being honest with him, or that Caoimhe would prefer another man to himself – the thought hurt too much for him to easily control his reaction. Inspecting Caoimhe's thoughts didn't help at all: the simple happiness she felt as she lost herself in the lilting melody of her song was like a spark to the tinder of Nuada's turbulent emotions.

Nuada dropped his glamour, determined to learn the truth. Caoimhe turned, and suddenly found herself staring at his chest. She jumped back with a cry, her eyes flying to his face. He stared down at her, fighting with his emotions.

Joy flared on Caoimhe's expressive face as she met his eyes. She faltered, suddenly registering his stormy expression. She glanced down his naked torso, puzzled. "Prince, is something wrong?" she asked quickly, while through the mental link he enjoyed, Nuada realised that Caoimhe wanted to punish anyone who would dare to make him frown.

"Wrong?" Nuada bit out. He was still too angry to be reasonable. What if she was capable of lying to him, of trying to deceive him? Without preamble, he demanded, "Who did you entertain tonight?!"

Caoimhe was taken back. "My family, Highness."

He looked sharply at Caoimhe.

"My parents, my brother Aiden, and his wife and twin girls were here for dinner tonight," she elaborated cautiously, staring up at him. "I don't understand you! Why would you care who I hosted?" She searched his face, her own puzzled. "What is going on?"

Nuada snarled, incensed that his anger was making him play the fool. He didn't need telepathy to sense the anger rising within her. He clenched his fists, knowing that he was heading into dangerous waters. "Not with your lover tonight, then?" he demanded.

Caoimhe gasped, colour flaring across her cheeks. She crossed her arms tightly. "Not tonight or any night, not that it's any of your business. I don't have a lover, Highness," she snapped, tossing her head so her hair flowed in a lovely wave behind her.

Nuada stared down at Caoimhe, thinking of what he would say to Nuala presently. She would regret tricking him like this! Did she hope that he would think less of Caoimhe, or perhaps, that he would so enrage Caoimhe that he would have no chance with her?

Far from it! Angry though he was, his senses soared to be near the Guardian. Nuala had unwittingly helped show him how much he valued Caoimhe, independently of the magic within her. Thinking that she might prefer another had thrown him from his endless internal debate, and forced him to face his true feelings: that he loved the girl in front of him, and wanted to claim her. Had she been an elf maiden, there would have been no doubt or hesitation, Nuada realised. That she was human held him back, but foolishly – he was angry with himself for allowing his blanket condemnation of mankind to prevent him from treating Caoimhe honestly. She was so obviously trying to do what was right for him and his people, and was so suited to him, that he would be wrong in denying his feelings for her, merely because of her race.

Nuada relaxed his fists and exhaled sharply. Searching Caoimhe's face, he said more softly, "Have you never loved then, child?" It was an unfair question, as he knew fully well that she adored him, but he longed for her to admit her feelings for him.

Caoimhe's red cheeks burned brighter. She blazed with love and longing, but did not speak. She searched his face, then, with a small, helpless sound, looked away. Nuada could hear her agonised thoughts. She flooded him with burning love and a primal awareness of his body. Even though she longed to act on these emotions, she put her own feelings aside in her determination not to do anything she thought would cause him pain. Nuada felt ashamed and irrationally hurt, which made him crosser than ever. She should have admitted her love, she should be enflamed with lust. And yet, she carefully looked away from his naked torso when she dropped her eyes, trying to escape his burning gaze.

Snarling, he spun athletically, and stalked toward the door. He was on the threshold when he heard her whisper, "I have _always_ loved, Prince. I have always been faithful to my love. And, I'm _not_ a child!"


	10. Passion Admitted

Chapter 10: Passion Admitted

Nuada stopped in his tracks, his heart singing as the implications of these words hit him. Before he could respond, he heard a sharp gasp. He turned quickly, finding Caoimhe staring at him, her eyes luminous with tears, her face anguished. She reached out to him, her breath catching.

"I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry," Caoimhe whispered. "I wish, I wish, I wish you'd never been hurt by humans! I wish I could make it up to you! I wish I could punish all those who dared harm you!"

Whatever was she talking about? Even as he frowned and cocked his head, he understood: his scars! Of course she'd never seen him stripped for training before, and apparently, her crown fragment hadn't felt the need to describe his scars to its human host. Nuada stared at Caoimhe, feeling her deep anguish, still caught off guard that a human could – would – feel such pain that her own kind had hurt him. She was faithful indeed, as she had said.

Nuada crossed the room in two long strides, seized Caoimhe and kissed her hard, pulling her ruthlessly against his body. Caoimhe squeaked in surprise, delighted by his actions. He thrilled to her mental response, while the crown piece burst into song, shimmering over her. The rapture of the song made Nuada groan. He welcomed it, knowing that the crown piece was now merely celebrating that he had fallen honestly in love with its human. He kissed her more urgently, pulling her head back by her hair to raise her lips to his. He swept his other hand down her back, caressing her roughly. He felt mad with desire for her.

Caoimhe hesitantly raised her hands to Nuada's back, enflamed by her love and by that of her crown piece. She stroked up his back, marvelling at the velvet strength of him, feeling flames of anguish with each ridge of scar tissue that her fingers traced. Nuada groaned, holding her closer, thrilled as Caoimhe submitted to her love and lust for him, kissing him with matching passion.

He wanted to take her right then and there, but held on to his control with the last scrap of his discipline. He was all too aware of how fragile her balance was; that she was still convinced that she was unworthy of him, and that she must protect him, even if she suffered in doing so. He was also conscious of how easily he could hurt her, even when calm, either by overwhelming her with the power of his emotion, or forgetting his strength in his ardour. The thought that he might hurt her ran through him like ice water, helping him regain control over his burning passion.

Taking a deep breath, Nuada raised his head and gently hugged Caoimhe, holding her safe within the strength of his arms. He rested his chin gently against her hair, inhaling her perfume, feeling that he had come to rest in a safe harbour after a long, stormy voyage. Rocking her gently, Nuada sang softly, thinking clearly for the first time since Nuala had come to his home. He was amazed at the liberty he felt in accepting his feelings, in allowing himself to admit that he didn't need to hate _every_ human that ever existed. He felt a rush of possessive love for Caoimhe at this revelation, realising that she had been key in unlocking the stranglehold hatred had on his heart. Nuada kissed the top of Caoimhe's head, holding her more tightly.

Caoimhe hugged Nuada back, then slid her arms down to encircle his waist. She stood in his arms for a long time, glad to feel safe, and whole, and rapturously happy. Her heart beat with his, drumming passionately. He felt her lips move against his skin where she was resting her cheek against his chest, as she grinned radiantly. All the while, the shimmer of the lost crown piece hung over them, filling each with euphoria.

When Nuada fell silent and relaxed his grip, Caoimhe looked up at him, smiling unguardedly. Nuada's heart tightened at the joy on her face. He swept her off her feet, holding her in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck. He carried her to the drawing room, sitting on a couch and settling her on his lap, cradled against his body.

He sighed softly when Caoimhe started to mentally question whether she was worthy of the attention he was showering on her. She drew back to look up at him, her big eyes anguished. Inside, he could hear her thinking, _What are you doing?! You're completely unworthy of him! He might flirt with you (perhaps he's bored, and this is as good a way as any to pass the time!), but he will only love one of his own, matched to him._

Nuada smiled at her silly thoughts. He wished he could tell her that he wasn't bored, any more than he was toying with her. If only she could see herself through his eyes! Did he have to let her into his thoughts to convince her? If so, then so be it. He stroked her face, smiling. "Caoimhe, you act as if you want me, you want this–" Nuada murmured, kissing her lingeringly, "but you are afraid. Don't be, child; trust what is in your heart."

Caoimhe bit her lip. "How can I, Highness?" she said eventually, "My heart is filled with love... with adoration... for you -"

Feeling a 'but' coming, Nuada interrupted her neatly, pulling her to him and firmly pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her joyfully, his heart soaring at her words. Caoimhe was silenced until he had mercy on her and raised his head again.

"W-wow!" Caoimhe breathed, staring up at him. Shaking her head, she focused, forcing herself to continue, "B-but I am just a human, a poor echo of what you are, Prince. You need a woman who is worthy of you, one of your own kind."

Nuada raised his eyebrows. "I know exactly who I need to stand beside me, to complete me." Frowning, he continued, "I do understand why you would think yourself unworthy, being… human." He couldn't keep the venom out of his voice. A shadow crossed his face, his focus turning inside. He fell silent.

Caoimhe heaved a quick, pained breath, watching the emotions wash over Nuada's white face. She tentatively reached out, stroking his shining hair away from his face, tracing the curved scars adorning his temple. Nuada looked up quickly at her movement, as if she had roused him from an unpleasant dream. Caoimhe bit her lip, offering a small, timid smile, her eyes fixed on his. He exhaled sharply, shaking the hatred away, looking deeply into Caoimhe's bright eyes. Through his connection to her, he was flooded with a wave a tender love, as she thrilled to the softening of his expression.

Nuada realised that being with Caoimhe distanced him from the ageless anger and hatred that had been his steadfast companions in exile. Her heartfelt concern for his happiness muted these dark emotions. "You are certainly _not_ a poor echo of me, or of my kind. You are instead my salvation. You have shown me that in so many ways, Caoimhe." Nuada paused, comparing the joys of the previous months with the loneliness he had endured in his long exile. "Hear me, Guardian: human though you are, you are the match of any man!" he continued quietly, his stern expression challenging her to contradict him. "Trust me: I have high standards, woman. You are everything any man of taste could desire. And with your royal blood, you are above most men's reach."

"Royal blood? We lost that rank ages ago. We are still counted in the aristocracy, I suppose, but not in any meaningful way. I assure you that I have no particular status, Prince."

Nuada snorted, his eyes narrowing. "How little you know, child. You are the Guardian, which gives you status among the Children of the Forest. You are also a direct descendant of the king whom we fought and defeated all those years ago – the Royal Crown of Bethmoora recognises you as royalty, as would the Golden Army. You have high status, despite what you believe." He gently ran one hand through her hair, pulling her head forward so his face was close to hers. He caressed her lips with the tickle of his breath as he continued, "You're entirely suitable for a prince, for example..." He kissed her, holding her spellbound, pressing gently at first but slowly increasing both the pressure and demand of his mouth on hers.

He raised his head to find that Caoimhe still had her eyes closed, her face euphoric. She slowly shook her head, forcing herself to focus, opening her eyes almost unwillingly. Caoimhe's eyes widened; she stared up at him intently. Nuada could tell that she wanted to believe him, so much, but she was afraid to. What would it take to convince this stubborn girl? Not that it mattered: Nuada would gladly do whatever it took, with his golden eyes fixed firmly on the prize of winning her hand.

"You are lovely and exciting to me, Caoimhe. I find you endlessly intriguing. You make my heart sing and my mind rejoice." He stroked her face as he spoke, his gaze alternating between her eyes and her lips. "No, don't talk! Just feel." He ran his thumb gently over her lips. "Trust me. Believe me. I have no reason to lie to you, and every reason to be honest." Pausing to kiss her lingeringly, he said, "I love you, Caoimhe."

Through their connection, he felt her stunned reaction, and the explosion of happiness that followed. She gave in to her heart, trusting in her feelings and his. In return, Nuada felt a rapture fire his body, knowing that his soulmate, this gift from the third crown piece, was his! She kissed him, holding him tightly, leaning against his torso. Nuada returned the kiss avidly.

"I love you, Pr–"

Nuada stopped her, smiling, "I think it's about time that you use my name, Caoimhe!"

Caoimhe smiled radiantly, then took a deep breath. "I love you, Nuada."

Nuada grinned, stroking her lips, her face.

"But –"

"No 'buts'!" Nuada cut her off. "Trust your feelings, darling soulmate. Trust the wisdom of your crown piece. Trust me."

"I do, Nuada."

"Good." Nuada laughed with her, sharing a moment of intense eye contact, before he kissed her again. He offered her his hand. Hesitatingly shyly, Caoimhe linked palms with him, joining minds. She beamed as his love flooded her, together with his desire for her. Caoimhe realised that he felt no hesitation or shame to give his love to her, human though she was. She felt the power of the third crown piece stir in her, celebrating that the Elf Prince was finally healing, that his brooding anger was losing some of its bite. Her final hesitation drained from her, leaving only her deep love and fierce devotion.


	11. War Plans

Chapter 11: War Plans

Nuada rejoiced, knowing that he had indeed won both Caoimhe's heart and her mind. As she had won his, though he had been unwilling to admit this, or even allow himself to entertain the idea. He realised that, despite being human, she was such a delight to him, firing his inquiring mind, his hunger for knowledge and wisdom. She also won him by the pleasure he experienced in her presence, from her touch.

What Nuada would have vehemently dismissed as weakness he now understood to be the path to more strength than he would ever have imagined; that in accepting his love for Caoimhe, he had unlocked the wellspring of power left within her by the third crown piece. It filled him with passion and potency, firing his nerves and sending shivers of elusive music through him. Nuada suddenly realised that it would show him the way to end the age-old conflict and lead his people out into the sunlight once more.

Thrilled, Nuada pulled Caoimhe close again. He was determined to make the most of their privacy while it lasted. In fact, he suddenly mused, it was very odd that they hadn't been interrupted, by his determined twin if no other! Was something wrong?

Unwillingly, Nuada lifted his head, listening carefully. He could still make out the faint sounds of the guard surrounding the house. No noise seemed threatening, but something was different. Intrigued, Nuada gently settled Caoimhe on the couch, standing with his fingers on her lips, silencing her. She stared up at him with big eyes, obedient to the caress of his fingers.

"Stay here, my love. I want–" Nuada broke off, remembering that Caoimhe did not know about the Fey guard always in attendance of her. He needed to talk to her before she learned about that, to help her gracefully accept the knowledge that they had never left her alone. "I will be back in a few minutes," he amended, briefly cupping Caoimhe's chin before stalking swiftly from the house, again cloaked by glamour.

Nuada circled the house quickly, satisfying himself that all the guards save Leste were in place. He quickly found Leste, Wink beside him, both by the path that disappeared into the woods. As he approached them, he checked momentarily to discover his father and sister a little further on, with the royal guard in attendance. Balor lead Nuala forward to greet Nuada, putting enough distance between them and the guards to allow them private conversation. Nuada bowed to Balor, then nodded coolly to Nuala.

"Is it you I have to thank for some time alone with the Guardian, my father?" Nuada asked, glaring pointedly at Nuala. She responded with a defiant look, radiating a complex set of emotions. Nuada thought he detected a hint of remorse from his twin; he thawed a little bit.

Balor nodded, his aged eyes sharp and cognisant of the interplay between his children. He smiled, touching his son's bright hair. "I felt it was time for you and the Guardian to come to terms with your feelings for each other, my son. How did you leave her – still determined to save you from yourself, or ready to wed?"

Nuada extended his head with a slight bow, acknowledging his father's comprehension, while Nuala gasped, looking between the two with consternation. "We have pledged our love for each other, Father, though Caoimhe doesn't yet realise that she _will_ be my bride. But she will be happy to unite with me – I just haven't asked her yet. In truth, I would be happy for you to marry us immediately! I have waited all my life for a woman as perfect as her, and the third crown piece has delivered her to me, through its love for me. I am blessed indeed that you convinced me to step back and understand the Guardian, Father – and I thank you for your wisdom."

Balor clasped forearms with Nuada affectionately. "I will be happy to welcome Caoimhe into our family, Nuada. She will enrich us, for the short span of her life. I am sorry that your marriage will necessarily be briefer than normal, my son, but I still believe that Caoimhe is the woman for you. We will look for ways to lengthen her life. You are not the first elf to love a human, and there are stories of old where human spouses lived many times the natural span of their kind. As to your wedding, you should really gain your bride's consent before I marry you!" he said dryly.

Balor turned to Nuala, who was standing quietly, shadows of anger and frustration crossing her face. "Nuala, I know that you have yet to come to terms with the value of the Guardian. Just as Nuada had to find his own path to accepting his feelings for her, you have to understand and accept yours. Seeking wisdom will also heal your pain and ease the conflict burning within you. In the interim, you will behave as behoves your status, and congratulate your brother!"

Nuala looked down, a mulish look marring her lovely features. Inside, Nuada could feel the storm gathering within his twin. When the tension was so great that it made him want to lash out, she burst into low, passionate speech, "You are both blind!" She glared at them, then grasped Nuada's arm, shaking him imploringly. "Nuada, you speak as if you love the human, when all you're responding to is the magic on her! You crave that, not her! Do not ally yourself to her, when she is but a mirage, a shadow of what you truly desire!"

Her words stung. Nuada frowned, wanting to slap his sister. He forced himself to remain passive in her grip. Taking a deep breath, he said quietly, "Do you not think that I recognised that I would love the power she carries, Nuala? I saw that, and made sure that I wouldn't ascribe love for the third crown piece – the one I would have carried, had our father not given it to the humans! – as love for the vessel it chose. I am not that foolish or superficial, Sister. I drew back, as soon as I realised the temptation." He shook her hand off, stepping back with a rueful smile. "Instead, I fell honestly and deeply in love with the woman, independently of the magic she carries. You have been with her more than I have, Nuala; how can you not love her too? She is loving, wise, courageous, faithful and sweet. She is all I could desire, and more, and I am fortunate indeed to have found such a wonderful wife!"

"But she's _human_, Nuada! She is not worthy of you!"

Nuada's eyes narrowed; he heaved a sharp breath. He opened his mind to his twin, providing her with evidence that he was voicing his honest feelings. "Yes, she's _human_; yes, I draw my wife from our sworn enemy! But she is not at all typical of her race. How could she be, when she was raised by the third crown piece to serve our people over her own? She is more than worthy of me, Nuala, human or no. She completes me, in a way I doubt any elf could. As Father said, the Gods do have a sense of humour!"

Nuala stared into his face, her own pained, words piling up behind her clenched teeth. Nuada could tell that she still didn't believe him, that she still thought all his lust was for the magic on Caoimhe. Nuada growled impatiently, "And if I am mistaken, as you believe, then you may be the first to say 'I told you so!', lovely Sister. But I am not mistaken!"

Stepping back and taking a deep breath, Nuala forced herself to show her father and brother a serene face. She moved to Nuada, kissing his cheek and congratulating him very prettily. He bowed his head to her, acknowledging the sentiment cautiously, aware that her feelings were as conflicted as ever.

"And you will treat Caoimhe as your sister. Understood?" Balor commanded sternly.

"Yes, my King," she bowed, hesitating slightly.

Returning his attention to Nuada, Balor clapped him on the back. "The Gods are to be praised, Nuada, that you have found the wisdom to look past your hatred and see the value in the Guardian. It takes great courage to see your limitations, and overcome them. And if the third crown piece is correct, Caoimhe is in fact representative of what mankind has matured into. They are still bound by the limitations of their nature, but there is hope that they now perceive how their actions hurt those they share the earth with."

Nuada frowned, unwillingly considering his father's words.

"I think it is time that we all talk to Caoimhe," Balor ruled, waving the guards in step as he walked toward her house. "I watched and listened as Caoimhe's immediate family dined with her tonight. Most of their conversation was about ordinary things, and not worth further consideration. It appears, however, that they have new intelligence about the plot. I favour removing Caoimhe to our palace, for her safety. In our arrogant belief that any plot against us must come only from humans, we did not guard her identity among the Fey. If our kind is actually behind the plot, we have placed her at grave risk. She will be better protected in the royal palace."

"I agree," Nuada nodded, looking wry. "She will not appreciate losing her independence, but she will obey, however reluctantly." He led his family into the house, going to the drawing room. The royal guard took up their stations around the house.

Caoimhe stood up quickly when the elves entered, surprised to be facing the entire royal family. She knelt politely before them, bowing her head to Balor. Nuada strode forward, taking her hands to raise her, kissing her lovingly when she met his gaze. She blushed, unsure of what Balor would think of his royal son giving his love to a human, rather than another elf.

Balor joined them, gently displacing Nuada and hugging Caoimhe, then kissed her forehead in blessing. Balor's crown piece burst into unthinkably beautiful song; the ghost of the third crown piece within Caoimhe responded happily. "Welcome to my family, Guardian! Nuada tells me of your love for each other. I could not be more pleased, and will be glad to call you 'daughter'. I hereby restore you to your ancestral titles, Princess Caoimhe."

Caoimhe stared up at him, not knowing what to say, as he released her and stood back, making the path clear for Nuala.

Nuala aimed a quick look at her kin, who looked expectantly at her. Composing her face, she too came forward. As soon as she was by the King and Caoimhe, her crown piece added its voice to the joyous song. Nuala paused, breathing deeply and smiling in wonder at the beauty of their song. Caoimhe found herself enveloped in a fragrant embrace, Nuala's soft golden hair tickling her face. "I too welcome you, Guardian," Nuala said with credible sincerity, though her twin was aware that she was still very conflicted. "I am glad to have you as my sister, Princess Caoimhe."

Caoimhe felt that she might burst with joy. They didn't mind! They were happy to have her in their family! She hadn't failed her beloved crown piece after all. "Majesty, Princess, I don't know what to say," Caoimhe smiled, bowing her head. "T-thank you for your courtesy and for honouring me. I know I don't –"

Nuada cut her off, touching her lips. He looked down at her with an affectionate smile. "No doubts as to your worthiness, my love. This is but recognition of who you are! Trust your heart. Trust us."

Balor sat, waving them all to join him. Nuada drew Caoimhe down close beside him, while Nuala chose to sit across from them, seemingly unable to tear her gaze from them. Nuada suspected she was reconsidering her opinion of Caoimhe, and of his desire for her. Nuala met his eyes, offering him a smile. Nuada smiled back, pleased to see some of the anger fading from her lovely features. She heaved a quick breath, settling her hands gracefully in her lap. Nuada cocked his head, noticing that his lovely twin's thoughts were largely shielded from him again. While he was sorry to be shut out, he was pleased that she was regaining her composure, and with it, her control.

Turning to look at Caoimhe, Nuada took her hands in his. "My family and I need to discuss your crown piece with you, Caoimhe. We need to put a plan in motion both to protect you and to defeat those who plot against all of us."

Caoimhe searched his face. She was clearly determined to meet the threat and protect the magical folk and her clan alike. A hint of the vast pool of strength Nuada knew was within her sparked behind her alert expression. She nodded, watching him cautiously, wishing that she knew how to deal with the threat without involving the magical folk. "My family and I agree, High– "

Nuada cut her off. "You can call me 'Nuada' without offending any of us... child!" he grinned, stroking her cheek. She smiled, angling her head without thinking to nuzzle his hand. "You will have to come to terms with being royalty. I don't feel like calling you 'princess' or 'highness' in private... let's use our names. We can use our titles in public, as is appropriate for our station."

"As you wish... Nuada," Caoimhe bowed her head, dimpling.

"You have been suspicious for some weeks that your crown fragment did not simply abandon you when it died, yes?" Nuada knew this to be true, from Caoimhe's thoughts, but did not yet wish to admit that he could read her mind as easily as if her thoughts were his own.

Caoimhe nodded, looking pensive. "She bestowed some of her power onto me, that day, didn't she?"

Balor answered, "Yes. You are now tied more deeply to the wellbeing of my people than ever, because you carry its magic. You are still the Guardian, and in protecting you, we will protect our kingdom."

"Don't be so concerned, Darling!" grinned Nuada, feeling Caoimhe's alarm that they placed such value on her. "It means that we will guard you as one of our own, that's all. I would anyway, out of love for you."

Caoimhe grinned in return, love beaming in her expression. She looked thoughtful. "My crown piece confided quite a lot in me, but not enough to let me understand why she chose to die. I wondered if perhaps she did so to prevent the Golden Army from awakening – I know that she didn't believe that your kind could win with open war."

"There was more to its decision than that," Balor said. "It confided the same belief to me. I understand its reasoning, but not its plan. There must be a way to allow our people to live in the light once more!"

"I would like to think so. I know that my crown piece _did_ think so, Majesty. She set me to study all sorts of things that she thought might be useful to you. I can't help but think that she raised me to help fulfil her plan."

Nuada kissed Caoimhe's forehead. "I think you're right, clever girl! It is only a matter of time before we discern its plan, and your part in it, my love. We have been pondering this very question, and have some insight." He frowned. "This becomes all the more significant, in light of the plot against your family. I want to find out who is behind that."

"Me too. Who-ever it is, or they are, they are well hidden. All I have so far is evidence that a cousin's former fiancé once asked too many questions about the crown and your people, and one online query that went beyond the normal. Otherwise, we haven't got anything concrete."

"An online query?" Nuada cocked his head.

"Uhm, yes. Another of my cousins is quite the computer genius. He developed a program to monitor the internet for any use of our names, especially in conjunction with any terms associated with the magical folk. Usually it's nothing more than harmless curiosity about elves and other magical beings. But lately, my cousin found a couple references that seemed to link another Irish clan as well. We have been focusing our efforts on them. When my family was here earlier tonight, we had a little 'war council' about that. We believe we have the names of some people who are very likely involved, and perhaps in with the main drivers of the plot."

"Excellent!" Nuada smiled, stroking Caoimhe's cheek, "I think that your idea to spread the word that the crown fragment was never returned is also excellent strategy. I would like to help: my people can bespell your family, to truly believe that to be the truth."

"Modify our memories, you mean?"

"Essentially."

"I'm rather possessive of my memories, Nuada!" Caoimhe looked dismayed.

"I appreciate that, and in fact, I don't wish for you to be included in this enchantment. _I_ need your memories too! We all do. But the rest of your family can survive with the belief that you haven't had the crown piece for centuries. Think of yourself as the memory keeper, if you like: we can use your memories to undo the charm once the threat is past."

"Will this hurt my family?"

"Not at all." Nuada stroked Caoimhe's hair back from her face. "Trust me."

"I do." Caoimhe caught his hand and kissed the palm. "With my life, and that of my family. We are ready to die for all of you, and for the Treaty, if that will save the magical folk."

"We know," Nuada smiled, "and you amaze me, for that! Humans, wanting to help my people, even at the risk of their own lives. I never would have believed it."

Balor leaned forward. "Caoimhe, your life is now bound to ours. In addition to commanding the Golden Army, the crown was created to ward our people. If you are killed and the magic of the third crown piece is truly lost, then its siblings will be weakened and we can still fall. We cannot afford to let you out of our sight, or even once leave you unguarded."

Caoimhe frowned, seeing her precious freedom draw further away.

Nuada cupped Caoimhe's cheek lovingly, adding, "I know that you want control back, but my love, too many lives will be at risk if we do not take charge of you! I will try to make your cage as pleasant as possible, but you must obey us." Nuada chuckled at the mutiny in her eyes, and put his fingers to her lips to silence the words of protest building there. "You know that you must bow to being a subject of the Kingdom of Bethmoora, Caoimhe: this is the way you will uphold the Treaty, and fulfil the trust placed on you. You are also my equal and my love, and will be treated as such." Nuada kissed her, continuing compellingly, "Let me watch over you, Caoimhe; let me call you my own and devote myself to your happiness and wellbeing. I want nothing more, when it comes to you!"

Through his link into her mind, he could feel both the turmoil of her thoughts and a burst of intoxicating happiness at his pledge of love – his proposal to keep her always, as his beloved wife, had she but recognised it – and her amazement that he should feel that way for her. At the same time, she forced herself to think carefully about the proposal he and his father put before her, showing the strength he knew she had at her core, refusing to allow her emotion to cloud her judgment. She wanted desperately to find alternative ways, which did not risk him or his people, but could think of none. Nuada was pleased as she bit her lip, reluctantly accepting his need to rule her, that that was indeed the only way for her to help him, and his people. She was frightened too, both of the threat against her family, and against the Children of the Forest.

Looking from Balor to Nuala, and then looking deeply into Nuada's eyes, she nodded. "If this is truly the path I must take to help the Children of the Forest, then yes, of course, I'll… obey you." She shook her head, a smile playing at her mouth. "I'll try, anyway! You may have to remind me why, Nuada – I'm rather used to being in charge. Like you, I suspect!"

Balor nodded his approval. "We have another concern, Guardian. Both Nuada and I believe that elements of the plot against your clan and our people _must_ have their home with magical folk."

Caoimhe was aghast. She looked at Balor with horror. "But how, why…?" she managed to squeak out.

Nuada answered, "No non-magic user should have had the knowledge or ability to determine a way to force the third crown piece to obey anyone not of noble blood. While there is a chance that your enemies are also kings of men, it is more likely that they have somehow managed to steal the expertise of one of us."

"Or be lead by one of us," Balor said, his voice sharp. "Because of this, I want you to move into the royal palace, which is deep within the woods around your house." Balor put his hand up imperiously, silencing Caoimhe, who had her mouth open and full of unspoken protests. "No arguments, my daughter! This will ensure that we can guard you most effectively. You will return with us and live in the royal quarters, where we can be sure you are safe."

Nuada looked sympathetically at Caoimhe's mutinous expression. "You can be with me, Caoimhe, or have your own quarters. My love, you are now the third crown piece, and we _must_ protect you!"

"You're not openly sharing quarters until you wed," Balor said firmly. "Don't forget what you owe your station!"

Nuada grinned roguishly, sweeping Caoimhe up and hugging her tightly. "Then wed us right now, Father! I want nothing more!"


	12. War

Chapter 12: War

Caoimhe gasped, feeling very overwhelmed by all that was happening. Before she could say anything, she found herself alone on the couch. Nuada had leapt to his feet, quivering with battle focus. He was listening intently, head cocked. Balor and Nuala were also on their feet, their eyes fixed on Nuada. Simultaneously, all three elves disappeared.

Frightened, Caoimhe went to the picture window, pulling the drapes aside to look out over the peaceful pastures. She couldn't see anything amiss. An unseen hand gently touched hers, directing her to open the curtains more fully; a tall, strong body pressed against her, and Nuada whispered, "Don't show your alarm, my love – if our enemies are out there, don't let them know that we are aware of them. Act as if you are merely enjoying the view."

Caoimhe forced herself to relax, smiling as when she heaved a deep, steadying breath, Nuada did as well, his chest rocking her gently. She tried to appear relaxed, as if she was just enjoying the view. Her heart pounded within her chest, and suddenly, Caoimhe noticed that it had the same rhythm as the strong beat she could feel in the unseen chest pressing against her. Her heart was beating with Nuada's! She leaned back a bit, distracted by this discovery, smiling sweetly. Nuada nuzzled her temple in response, kissing her hair, before the pressure of his jaw disappeared and she sensed that he was studying the scene outside. Next moment, he gently but insistently drew Caoimhe away, his hand on hers guiding her to drop the drapes back into place. He drew her back by the pressure of his arm around her shoulders, then with a whispered, "Wait here, Caoimhe!", he stepped away from her.

It was torture to wait, but Caoimhe stood obediently, listening with all her might and stroking her puzzled dogs. They were restless, aware of the tension in her and the elves, but unable to perceive any threat. Caoimhe relaxed marginally at this. She didn't know how long it was before an unseen hand slid gently into hers and Nuada spoke directly into her mind.

_*The Royal Guard is watching three humans who are making their way through the woods toward your house. They left their vehicles about a half mile down the road by the woods. They do not seem to be carrying large weapons, but the smell of guns is on them.*_

Caoimhe tensed, nodding. She closed her eyes, calling on that wellspring of strength to calm herself. _*Are men approaching Aiden and his family too, do you know?*_

_*Yes, from the same vehicles. I imagine that they are after your parents as well, given that they are not likely to know which of you is key to finding the location of the third crown piece.*_

_*What should I do?*_

To her amazement, King Balor spoke directly to her. He must be linking to her through Nuada.

_*You will come with us, for safety. We will send an elf warrior in your place, disguised by glamour as you, Caoimhe. The warrior will then be taken to the people who plot against you, both to save any of your family members who are kidnapped, and to capture the would-be thieves. You are confident that no one will be mortally injured or killed before they know the location of the crown piece?*_

_*Yes, as confident as I can be, Majesty. They shouldn't know we carried her within our flesh – no one beyond the inner circle of the family knew that, among humans – so would I expect them to try to force us to reveal the location of the fragment.*_ Caoimhe swallowed at the thought of Aiden's children being in danger, but stayed focused.

_*I will take Caoimhe's place, Father. No argument – I will show you why it can only be me later; there's no time now. Send Leste and the others with me, hidden from the humans' sight. We can strike back once we know we have the ring leaders. Now, Father, Sister, concentrate with me so that I can use the magic of the third crown piece to hide Caoimhe and take her form.*_

Caoimhe bit her lip, anxious that Nuada was putting himself in danger. She felt a caressing pleasure from him at her concern, together with battle focus and steely determination, and wisely cleared her thoughts. She began singing softly, an elfin song that the crown piece taught her as a child rising from the depth of her memories. Dimly, she felt approval from the unseen elves inside her thoughts. Heat and shimmering magic swirled gently around her, and suddenly, she found herself holding hands with… herself! And in a heartbeat, she couldn't see her own hand, and knew that the elves had cast a glamour over her, hiding her from sight.

Nuada squeezed her hand and stepped away, clothed perfectly in her body. Caoimhe smiled, suddenly realising that she could also sense the Elf Prince, his height, his muscular breadth, his weapons. The men sneaking up to the house would have little chance against him!

Nuada murmured instructions to the dogs as he put them outside, out of view of where the men were approaching. Next, he passed through the drawing room to kiss Caoimhe's forehead, whispering to her that her dogs would be kept safe by the elves. Stroking her face, Nuada waved for his kin to take her to safety. In the space of a heart beat, they were gone. Nuada checked his weapons, and quickly conferred with his warriors, knowing that the humans would arrive within minutes. He was pleased when Leste brought him clothing and armour. He donned it quickly, squaring his shoulders. He was fired with the controlled exhilaration of the imminent battle, and glad that the enemy had chosen to move. He was ready.

Nuada went to the kitchen, being sure that he was visible through the windows that looked out onto the woods. He busily cleared the draining rack, putting the dishes into whatever cupboard came to hand (Caoimhe would be searching for her misplaced dishes for a while). He was careful to provide no sign to the men creeping toward the house that he was anything but a lone woman, vulnerable and defenceless. While he listened calmly to their approach, stealthy by human standards but loud and clumsy to sensitive elf ears, he concentrated on the steady cadence of his heart.

_*Beloved?*_

In the Royal Palace, Caoimhe jumped up with a gasp. _*Nuada!*_ she thought joyously, her face full of light. Balor paused in his pacing, looking sharply at her. He touched his own crown piece, listening carefully.

_*I am no further away than in your thoughts, Caoimhe, and your heart. Feel how our hearts beat together, bound by the power of the Royal Crown of Bethmoora! The crown pieces granted me that, and access to your mind, to allow us to work together against the humans who think to threaten your family. I will make them pay for their presumption, my love! I promise you that.*_

_*Are you alright? What is happening, Nuada?*_

_*I am fine, my darling. My warriors are with me, though I alone am more than a match for the men who approach. I will allow myself to be captured, and hope that they will bring me to the humans at the heart of this plot. My men will come along, unseen by the humans. And once I am sure that I have the ringleaders, or a direct line to them, we will take those who would plot against us!*_

_*Do not kill them, my son,*_ Balor thought, quickly crossing to Caoimhe and taking her hand. The crown pieces burst into song at his touch, causing shimmering light to dance over them. He motioned for Nuala to join them, bringing her singing crown piece to join with its sisters. *_Capture them, but leave them alive for interrogation. We need to know that we have defeated all those who seek to control our people. We also need to understand how they gained their knowledge.*_

_*Understood, my King. Through Caoimhe, I will be able to coordinate this attack with you. Caoimhe, you can also aid me by giving me the insight I need to masquerade as you, until we can reveal ourselves. Will you do this for me, Darling?*_

_*Of course, Nuada, of course! Anything!*_ Caoimhe thought, taking a deep breath. Nuada was aware of the strength rising within her, filling her with calm resolve, and him with the power of her crown piece.

_*Anything?*_ Nuada chuckled within her mind. _*Then tell me that you'll marry me!*_

_*M-marry you?*_ Caoimhe was thrown by the sudden change of topic. She shook her head, frowning, _*Focus, Nuada!*_

_*Marry me!* _Nuada thought gleefully, euphoric with the power pulsing from her. _*Stop worrying that you're not worthy of me – you are my perfect soulmate! Marry me!*_

_*B-but_–_*_

Nuada cut her off, _*Don't make me beg, woman!*_

_*Yes, yes, I'll marry you, gladly! I love you, Nuada, and wish only to be with you. But please, put that from your mind and bloody focus, you crazy elf!*_

_*Ha, I'd much rather think about our wedding night, you wonderful human!*_

_*Not with me still sharing your bride's mind!* _Balor thought firmly, while he smiled at Caoimhe and squeezed her hand. He rejoiced that his bright son had achieved the unthinkable: he was referring to a human with delight rather than bloodlust. Balor realised that Nuada would no longer automatically dismiss all humans as his enemy, solely because of their race. He was truly healing, through being reunited with his family, and through his love for the Guardian. _*I will wed you and the Guardian as soon as you return, but until then, you are to put the thought of anything but your enemy from your mind! You _will _concentrate on the matter at hand! You are not to take any foolish chances, Nuada – you are too important! Be mindful rather than rash, my son.*_

_*Understood, Father. If our lives are at risk, I will let others act before me, and be sure to guard my safety as well as theirs. And that of your family, Caoimhe. I will not fail!*_

There was a pause, in which Caoimhe was aware of Nuada's (and her) heart beating more quickly. She bit her lip, concentrating on her link with Nuada.

_*They come,*_ Nuada thought calmly. _*Be me, my love, such that I will respond as you would. Close your eyes and be one with me.*_

Caoimhe did as he commanded. She was immediately stunned to be back in her house, seeing through Nuada's eyes. She heard something behind her and turned around, coming face to face with a trio of large men, wearing black and holding guns. Caoimhe's eyes grew wide for a prolonged second, then narrowed into glinting slits.

"Hands up!"

Caoimhe clenched her fists, her mouth tightening. Within, she felt Nuada's burning fury that these humans dared threaten them, fuelling her own anger, muting her instinctive fear. She forced her hands into the air, knowing that surrendering to the rage rising from within Nuada would undo the trap they had laid.

The man to her right stepped forward quickly, grabbing her raised hand and yanking her back against him, covering her mouth and aiming his gun at her cheek. Caoimhe felt an explosion of deadly bloodlust rip through Nuada at the human's touch. It almost ignited her own fury, but she held onto her control and forced herself to remain still and nonthreatening in her attacker's grip. Nuada struggled to remain passive, to allow her to dictate his behaviour. She felt a quick rush of love for him rise out of her awe of his amazing control, and unknowingly provided him with the strength he needed not to unsheathe his lance and let it taste these humans' blood.

Her captor hissed, "Don't move!" at Caoimhe, then directed his colleagues to search the house. While they quickly and thoroughly ransacked Caoimhe's house, the man dragged her to the front entry way. He pushed her down onto a hope chest by the door, snarling, "Not a word! Not a sound!" His gun was carefully trained on her. Pulling a phone from his pocket, he keyed numbers in and impatiently awaited a response.

"We're in, we have our target, and we're searching the house," he said quickly, once his call was picked up. He listened for a period, during which Caoimhe was peripherally aware that Nuada could easily hear the person on the other end of the phone instructing their captor to take him/her to their vehicle and wait for a call from the team that went to Aiden and his family. Caoimhe was also aware, even as she stared up at the man with a carefully fearful expression, that she was in the Royal Palace, safe with the elves. King Balor was still holding her hand, monitoring Nuada's progress, anchoring her to reality. This gave her the strength she needed to keep their rage from her expression, so as not to alarm their captors.

The other two men returned, empty handed. Caoimhe/Nuada was hauled up roughly by her arm, and pulled impatiently from the house. Next, she was hurried along between two of the men as the trio trotted her quickly to their vehicles. Caoimhe found herself being shut in the back of a truck. She looked carefully around the interior, conscious that if she were in charge of this operation, she would install audio and likely video monitoring devices in the truck, in case the captives revealed the location of the third crown piece. She couldn't see anything, but her suspicion had its effect: she could hear Balor instructing Nuada to stay masked in Caoimhe's form, and Nuada telling the unseen warriors to stay hidden.

After a short wait, the truck started moving. Caoimhe rocked with the motion, unable to see where they were going. She knew where they had parked, and that they were pointed down the road toward the stud. In fact, the movement of the vehicle made sense in terms of going to Aiden's. Hence, she wasn't surprised to see Aiden and his family being tossed into the truck with her.

Aiden was white faced with anger and fright, while his wife was terrified and crying. Aiden cried out when he saw Caoimhe/Nuada, crossing to her and putting a hand on her shoulder, asking if she was fine. Caoimhe responded calmly, helping calm Aiden. His family drew close, the children (who saw through glamour more easily than adults) staring at Wink, Nuada and the other elves with big eyes, more puzzled than frightened. Leste knelt down, smiling and putting a finger to his lips, warning them to be silent. Unseen by their panicked parents, both girls nodded solemnly and cuddled up with their mother, staring silently at the masked magical folk.

The vehicle moved again. This time, the duration and the nature of the movement were consistent with a trip to the McKenna manor house. Caoimhe and her fellow captives were hauled out at gun point, and marched into the house. They found their parents there, frightened but unharmed. Using her dual perception, Caoimhe was relieved to see a large number of elf warriors, plus Mr. Wink, position themselves around the room. The magical folk could turn the tables on her family's enemies at any point Nuada ordered them to.

Having phoned in the terse message, "We're at the manor house", the men holding them tried to brow-beat them into telling where the crown piece was. Declan and Heather solidly and angrily claimed that the crown piece had never been reclaimed after it was stolen in the 10th century. Caoimhe was distain itself, tossing her head and marvelling that anyone could be stupid enough to believe in such a children's story, while Aiden just looked miserable and ignorant. They were all very convincing, and their captors became despondent.

Caoimhe feared that the men holding them would threaten them with violence, but this never occurred. At length, she wondered what trick they had up their sleave such that violence – an obvious way to coerce them, especially with Aiden's two little girls present! – was unnecessary. Before she could do more than brood about this, the sound of more vehicles arriving, followed by slow footfalls, came to Nuada's sensitive ears. Caoimhe found herself holding her breath, anxious about who might be coming, though her heart beat softly, strong with Nuada's. He was interested, but not concerned. The humans arriving would need to have great power to pose any danger to him, and his warriors.


	13. Avardal

Chapter 13: Avardal

A trio of elderly humans was ushered into the room by more men, whose bulk and guns announced them to be guards. The central man was reverently carrying a parcel wrapped in cloth. Nuada frowned, cocking his head, as his men shifted position to cover the newcomers. It looked a bit like a large book. A warning feeling touched his mind, and at the royal palace, his father straightened up, also wary.

The trio was unknown to the McKennas; that was clear to Nuada. He mirrored Caoimhe's puzzled vigilance, maintaining the façade of fear by staring with big eyes at the newcomers, while drawing closer to the women and children.

"Well, well, well," the man with the parcel said slowly, cruel satisfaction in every word. "The proud McKenna clan, cornered like curs. I am so pleased to have lived to see this day!"

Declan stepped forward. He radiated authority. "And who might you be, sir?!" he demanded, polite but defiant.

"I am Patrick McGuire, a very distant cousin, Mr. McKenna." He waved a hand languidly at his companions. "We are all McGuires, brothers. We come to claim the crown piece, which is rightfully ours, sir!"

"Yours?!" Declan gave a barking laugh. "By what right, sir?"

"We are of the branch of the family that should have had the crown piece, when ownership was contested in the 10th century. We _are_ the rightful owners, while you are damned thieves. We will have the piece, sir, or you _will_ suffer."

Declan drew himself up. "Your clan stole the crown piece from us!"

"Yes, we took it. We didn't steal it, for it was ours, by right! You stole it from us!"

"Nonsense! We never reclaimed the crown piece, you thieving dog! Give it back to us, immediately!"

The other studied Declan in silence, stroking his fingers back and forth over the silk masking the parcel. "You almost convince me that you truly believe that," he murmured, at length. "But I know better. I have powers you cannot imagine, sir, powers that mark me as the true master of the crown piece. Powers that tell me not only that your family reclaimed the crown piece, but that it now resides with your daughter, Miss Caoimhe McKenna."

Caoimhe gasped, astonished. She clenched her fists, snarling, "What?! The crown piece is nothing but a fairy tale, it's not real! Are you all mad?!"

The other studied her as carefully, as if again questioning his judgement. "Though I should say, _in_ your daughter," Patrick continued at length, looking at Declan again. Returning his attention to Caoimhe, he said quietly, "For I now know that you carry the third crown piece within your body, girl."

It was a credit to the McKennas' strength that they didn't reveal so much as a shred of incriminating emotion. Nuada felt a deep stillness fall on Caoimhe, as she immediately went into overdrive, working out how to undo the damage of this unexpected information, and to defeat the men before her.

"Within me?" she bit out, incredulously. "What?" She laughed, staring at the man as if he was insane. She asked exactly what Nuada and Balor wanted her to ask: "How could you think such a crazy thing?!"

"Because of this…" Patrick McGuire said, reverently uncovering the parcel. It was a book, as Nuada had suspected, metal-bound and ancient in appearance. He stiffened, realising what it was immediately. At once, he understood perfectly how the humans had come by knowledge that no human should have.

Caoimhe frowned, looking at the book. "Because of what?" she demanded, sharing a quick, puzzled look with her family.

"This, young lady, is the Book of Avardal," Patrick said impressively. "It is more ancient than the Kingdom of Bethmoora, and more powerful." He paused, as if expecting his audience to be overcome with awe. "I had thought that you would have the crown fragment, Mr. McKenna, hidden in one of your houses," Patrick mused, looking at Declan. "Not in the care of a… mere female, and especially not housed within her own flesh. That was very clever of your family. No matter. No matter. The Book told me otherwise, as I came into your home! And with its wisdom and power, the Book of Avardal will allow me to command the Golden Army and the magical folk alike." He caressed the cover, staring lovingly at the book, before looking up at Caoimhe with hard eyes. "But first, Miss McKenna, we need the crown piece you carry." He nodded at his henchmen.

Caoimhe froze as two large men immediately strode forward, seizing her arms and pulling her forward. Other henchmen stepped in to stop Declan and Aiden from trying to help her. She was flooded with Nuada's flare of fury that humans dared to touch him/them. Caoimhe was painfully aware of the will power it took for him not to react, when his instinct was to run these men through. She could hear Balor and Nuala whispering to Nuada through her, helping calm him, helping him keep control and maintain the masquerade that he was her. This helped calm her too. She was pulled to a stop before the book and its holder, her captors' hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place.

Patrick McGuire carefully opened the book. There was a charged silence as he stood quietly, holding the book to his chest, his eyes closed, as if communing with it.

_*Beloved, we must act immediately if he tries to use Avardal: a goblin spell spoken with an untrue heart is a dangerous thing, uncontrolled and evil,* _Nuada thought suddenly, taking advantage of the silence. Deadly anger was clear under his battle focus._*Be prepared for me to withdraw from your lovely mind, dear one, if I need to. Do not fear for me.*_

_*Bring Avardal, or send it to us immediately, Nuada!* _Balor demanded, battle calm and controlled. _*They cannot be allowed to keep it.*_

_*Rest assured, my King, they will not!* _Nuada growled, _*Anymore than they will be allowed their liberty. As to their lives, I will leave that judgement to you, Sire. I will deliver these damned humans to you very shortly!*_

Patrick opened his eyes slowly, as if coming out of a trance. He sighed, closing the book with reverent hands. He coldly considered Caoimhe. "If I am correct, Miss McKenna, you bear the mark of the One Tree, indicating the location of the crown piece within you. Strip her," he ordered.

His men leered, sharing pleased looks. Caoimhe straightened up, puzzled and affronted. She didn't in fact know that she was so marked, Nuada realised.

_Enough of this!_ Nuada thought, eyes narrowing dangerously at the lewd comments being bandied about his bride. As the men reached toward his/her clothing, he seized them too quickly for any of the humans to follow his movements, and smashed their heads together, swinging them around. They hit Patrick McGuire, knocking him over as they fell to the ground. The Book of Avardal soared from his groping hands.

Leste immediately darted in, catching the book even as it left the human's fingers. He masked it in glamour and handed it rapidly to Wink, whom Nuada sent to King Balor. Patrick cried out, searching for the book, while his men pushed toward Caoimhe. They crashed to the ground as they moved, struck down by unseen warriors. Before the McKennas could act, all their enemies were unconscious, save for the three elderly McGuire brothers.

Dropping his disguise, Nuada strode forward and plucked Patrick up. He shook him like a rat. Two of his warriors appeared beside the other McGuires, swords against their throats. Nuada forced Patrick to meet his golden glare.

The human cried out as he realised he was facing none other than the Elf Prince. Behind him, the McKennas also gasped, staring at Nuada. He would have struck his prisoner, but this sound reminded him of the children. Instead, he pushed Patrick to Leste, who took charge of him. Waving his hand, he sent his warriors and the captured humans to the palace, to await King Balor's pleasure.

Nuada turned to face the McKennas. The children were the only ones not frozen in surprise; they dropped their mother's now slack hands and skipped forward to stare up at Nuada, their faces adoring, stroking tentatively along the skirts of his ornate tunic. He looked down, distracted from his anger and the euphoria of battle. Laughing, he knelt down to gently stroke their hair. He had forgotten how innocent and brave children were, human as well as elf, and how loving, before they were trained to hate. Perhaps this would be part of their strategy to end the age-old conflict between his people and mankind…? He would have to ponder that.

Standing proudly, Nuada found that the McKennas had recovered enough to kneel before him. "Rise," he commanded. They stood hesitantly, raising pale faces to stare in wonder at him. He smiled gently, knowing that they would be concerned about Caoimhe. "Do not fear for Caoimhe's safety," he said, "The Guardian is with us, and will remain safe in our care until we are sure that the threat against you and her is past. On behalf of my royal father, King Balor, I thank you for your service to the Treaty and the Royal Kingdom of Bethmoora."

It was hard to say these words, and more so, to offer the mute humans a small bow of recognition, but Nuada knew that the humans before him had earned the gratitude of his people, as surely as his lovely bride had. Clearly, while Caoimhe had started his healing process, he still had a long way to go before he would be free of his now innate hatred for her kind.

"We will care for the Guardian's animals, and watch her house. If you need to contact her, leave a message for her there, and we will see that she receives it." Nuada paused, in case they wished to speak, but they were too intimidated. Nuada suddenly noticed tears spilling from the eyes of the women, and the tremor in the limbs of all the adults. Now that the crisis was over, shock was setting in. Nuada drew up abruptly, feeling the same turmoil sparking in Caoimhe. Nodding tersely, he used his magic to transport to the royal court, to Caoimhe.


	14. The Gift of the Third Crown Piece

Chapter 14: The Gift of the Third Crown Piece

Nuada found Caoimhe sitting weakly, under the care of Loro and the watchful eyes of his father and sister. She looked up with joy, tears springing to her eyes, as he appeared. Her face lit up, despite the shock shaking her limbs and threatening her consciousness. He crossed to her with quick strides, pulling her against his body, rocking her and singing into the strength of her silky hair. Simultaneously, he transported them to the privacy of his subterranean home, soothing her verbally and mentally, letting the shock roll over her and dissipate. Caoimhe clung to him, shaking, trying to control her tears. When she had mastered herself – more quickly than Nuada expected, drawing again on the core of power the crown piece had provided her – she raised her head to meet his golden gaze, smiling radiantly.

They stared lovingly into each other's eyes for long seconds, spellbound by the fire of their unfettered emotion. Simultaneously, they both twitched, and Caoimhe leapt up to kiss Nuada at the same second that he lowered his head to kiss her. He was staggered by the power of the kiss, and overjoyed at the emotion Caoimhe radiated, all her doubts and fears put aside. The crown piece rewarded him with glorious song, filling both with rapture.

"Nuada."

Nuada growled, raising his head to glare at Balor, with full guard in attendance. Was he _never_ to be allowed to make love to this darling girl? He refused to release Caoimhe from his tight hug, but controlled his ardour, forcing his hands to still on her back. Caoimhe heaved a deep breath, bright red.

His father met his furious gaze with majestic determination, a slight smile showing that he was all too aware of his bright son's thoughts. Nuada knew fully well what his father would say in response: that he was not some animal, slave to his desires; that he could wait a few more moments before he acted on his hunger for the woman hot against his body.

"Congratulations, Son. You have served your people brilliantly," Balor said, drawing closer. He nodded at Caoimhe as well. "And you, Guardian. Now, to your reward…" Smiling, he touched each with his good hand in turn, singing softly under his breath. Caoimhe couldn't quite hear the words; she raised a puzzled face to Nuada.

She found her prince staring at Balor with immense pleasure on his face. Nuada hugged her more tightly, holding his father's gaze as the song unfolded. Caoimhe was aware of how their hearts thundered in unison – Nuada was profoundly affected by his father's words.

Balor stepped back with a beaming smile, murmuring, "_Now_ you can act like an animal, my son!" so softly that only Nuada heard him. Nuada grinned like a wolf, rocking Caoimhe. Balor grinned back, blessing each again, and left them. A cadre of his guard remained, protecting the pair.

Nuada picked Caoimhe up with gentle hands, swinging her around with a delighted laugh. He quickly carried her to his bedroom, depositing her on the bed. Drawing back with a smile full of lust and love, he trailed his fingers along the elegant line of her cheekbone before turning to one of his ornate cabinets. He returned with a pair of lovely rings, intricate and sparkling with jewels. Stroking her face, he spoke directly within her mind, _*My love, my queen, you agreed to marry me. Are you still willing, Caoimhe? Will you be my wife, allow me to care for you, guard you, honour you with my mind and body, my thoughts and actions? Will you be mine?*_

Caoimhe felt as if she would explode with joy. Nodding vigorously, she thought back, _*Nuada, I live for you! Yes, please! I love you, I want you,* _She blushed adorably at the thought, catching her breath, _*I am yours already, Nuada. Heart and soul, mind and body, yours._*

Nuada slipped the ring on her heart finger before closing the matching ring in her palm, holding her hand in both of his and kneeling down to kiss her. When he released her, she marvelled at the beauty of the rings. Keeping her eyes on Nuada's, Caoimhe kissed his ring and slid it onto his heart finger, pulling him forward to press her lips hungrily against his.

Nuada returned her kiss avidly. _*My father kindly married us just now, by ancient elfin bindings. You are now my wife; I am now your husband.* _He grinned radiantly, standing up. _*We are free to act on our love, Caoimhe – without my father or Nuala or anyone else trying to hold us apart and reminding us about bloody decorum! Will you… have me?*_

Caoimhe nodded vigorously, though Nuada could sense the touch of anxiety behind her rapture. She stared adoringly up at him, breath quick with desire. _*Yes, yes, yes! B-but, I was being honest when I told you that I don't have a lover. I've - I've never had a lover, Nuada. I'm a… a…*_ She blushed, her courage failing her.

_*You're a virgin, yes; I understood what you were telling me, despite my foolish anger. Don't worry my love, I will fill you with nothing but pleasure! Trust me, where I was your enemy before, I am now your champion! I will never willing hurt you – I live for you, for your happiness and safety, my darling.*_

Beaming, Caoimhe stood up, running her hands tentatively up Nuada's body, studying the armour he wore. He caught them in his own hands, squeezing them reassuringly before gently settling them on his hips. He pulled her close and kissed her passionately. She relaxed into his arms, thrilled with the strength of his body. Nuada released her from his tight embrace, opening her body up for his caresses. He kissed her while sliding his hands along the neckline of her dress, ghosting them past her breasts – Caoimhe whimpered, both from desire and nerves – to glide along her ribs and over her stomach, where he could feel the concentrated power of the third crown piece, shimmering and singing joyously. She ran her hands in turn up his torso to caress his face, stroking his white-blond hair back, her lips glued to his.

Caoimhe avidly helped Nuada unstrap his armour and swing it over his head. He tossed it carelessly aside, his golden gaze fixed on Caoimhe's big, brightly shining eyes. Her hands got in the way of his as he undid his weapon belts and unwound his sash, making him laugh with delight at her impatience. He pulled his ornate tunic off, pleased as she gasped with a big smile, looking hungrily at his body, reaching out to him immediately. She bit her lip, looking between the muscular expanse of his chest and his eyes as she stroked along his muscles.

"W-wow!" Caoimhe grinned, swallowing nervously as she stroked him, enjoying the little growls of pleasure that rewarded her exploration. Looking up to gaze adoringly at him, she bit her lip, slipping her dress off her shoulders and shimmying it down her body, leaving it in a puddle at her feet. Nuada was delighted to discover the image of the One Tree on the smooth skin above Caoimhe's heart, marking their union. It sparked subtly under his fingertips, sending delicious shocks through him. He nuzzled her temple, realising that the One Tree now graced her forehead as well, binding her mind to his. She was a marvel to him, filling him with deep rapture.

Nuada pushed her back toward the bed, moving his caresses down her body. She stared up at him with such desire that he caught his breath with excitement, amazed that he could feel more aroused. He was aching for her! He grinned, kissing her and joining her on the bed.

It was some time later that the pair were finally still, satiated and content. Caoimhe had been nervous, but quickly forgot her fear in the soaring arousal he induced in her, and shared with her, through the joining of their minds. She had proven to be a hungry, appreciative lover, delighting in Nuada and in the power he had to make her skin sing. He lay beside her, holding her tightly with a delighted laugh. She rained kisses onto his chest, holding him as tightly. They drifted into sleep that way, as close as possible in the large bed.

As they slept, magic shimmered over them like the aurora borealis. The ghost of the third crown piece fired the couple with her love and power. Now that Nuada had learned to love the human she had chosen to bear her, now that her beloved hot-head of an elf would stop and think before he struck out, it was time to reveal her plan. She concentrated her power on Nuada, shaping his dreams.

_You're standing above the Earth, suspended in the currents, floating effortlessly where the birds of prey circle. The world lies before you, like a giant map, dotted with the lights of human habitation. You feel frustration as their lights fire most of the land, like a cancer, infiltrating the territory that rightfully belongs to the magical folk, to the Kingdom of Bethmoora, to your royal father. This image emphasises how the humans have forgotten the Treaty, or are wilfully violating it in their greed. You feel your anger building, and the desire to strike out at mankind, to reclaim what is rightfully yours, for your people. Too long have your people kept hidden, making what life they can in the forgotten corners of the vast steel and concrete forests created by humans._

_The lights start winking out! Startled, you watch as darkness infiltrates the human sprawl, and then, amazingly, a luminous glow blossoms where the humans once tried to banish the dark. All over the Earth, large areas of land are returned to magical folk, and humans retract into the remaining cities. Barriers are raised, both physical and magical, to protect the newly regained territory. You watch as even the air changes, to guard those within the luminous, magical lands now spreading through all the human nations. At long last, the Kingdom of Bethmoora stands proud again._

_You look within the remaining cities, within the concentrations of humans. You expect anger, fear, greed; a determination to strike out at the magical folk; to deny that any other creature might deserve space to breathe. You expect the hue and cry that magical folk have stolen the human holdings, and that the humans must regain them by any means necessary. Instead, you find that all the reclaimed lands are legally bound to your people, through human laws and jurisprudence. Lawsuits rage in the courts, international and national, but the contracts that bought your people the freedom to walk in the sun are too well designed, using human terms and bindings, to be broken. The humans' hands are legally tied._

_At the same time, you find a growing wealth of people who support your kind and wish you well, against their own people's greedy hunger for the land you now occupy. This movement has its start with the children, who tell their parents and all the adults alike that the earth _must_ be shared, that these lands _must_ be returned to the magical folk. The adults protest at first, laughing at their children, but the simplicity and depth of the children's conviction convinces them in the end. And as these children become adults, they raise their own progeny with respect for other peoples, with the understanding that the earth is not solely for the use of mankind._

_As your people regain their hold on the land, you watch as more human lights dim and extinguish, as more land is returned to your father. Under the care of the magical folk, agricultural lands blossom beyond human imagination, bearing enough food to feed all people, magic or no. No person goes hungry under this new order, and the humans start to realise that what they thought was good practice and stewardship was little more than rape of the land. The world begins to appear as it should have, as it would have, if only the humans had been strong enough to honour the Treaty. _

_Only those humans who cannot give, cannot share, cannot let go of their xenophobic little lives are left complaining. Between the cultural revolution, the new wealth accrued in trade with your people, and the legal bindings, most of those who would strike out at you are ineffectual._

_An underground movement is born of a small group of humans who can only hate, who have hearts of stone and who care for nothing but their own greed. You are amazed to find that human governments attempt to quell this stream of malcontent violence. What they are unable to contain, you find child's play to counter. _

_You hold the threat of the Golden Army over the humans, though even if you could, you would not need to wake them. You are more than capable of protecting your people. While you know that mankind is mindful indeed of the deadly force at your command, you are pleased that this enlightened version of your age-old enemy does not need to be held by fear. They are in thrall with you, celebrating elves as godlike beings, marvelling at other magical folk, engaging in commerce with you, upholding your rights as they uphold the laws that they themselves created._

"_This is the world you can help establish, my love, if you keep your faith and let the Golden Army sleep, as a threat hanging over the world of men."_

_You turn, finding your darling wife beside you. And yet, not your Caoimhe. Rather, a Caoimhe clothed in gold; Caoimhe as a living golden statue. She looks adoringly at you, and you notice that she is as much Fey as human, a subtle union of your two races._

_You hold your arms open for her, smiling radiantly, your heart alive with joy. You seek her in the mutual beating of your hearts and in your pleasure at occupying the peaceful garden of her mind. And yet, she is closed to you, even as she walks forward and presses against you. She is tall enough now to lay her head beside yours, to look you in the eye as she gazes adoringly at you, to kiss you without you leaning down or she straining to reach your lips. But despite that, her golden lips are those that you seek, that you lust after, and her throaty laugh of desire is the song that fires your veins._

"_Nuada, my golden prince, my love, you must allow Caoimhe to act as I have always intended her to act, to serve you and our kingdom alike," your wife says, her hands relaxed on your hips, her face serious. "I raised her to help bring about a lasting, viable peace between the magical folk and mankind. For millennia, your father and I have sought a solution to the conflict. We have studied the enemy, finding mankind's weaknesses, the way in which they will be tamed by their very nature."_

_Your golden wife looks ruefully at you as she continues. "I am afraid that I have deceived you and your father, my darling. I led you all to believe that the Golden Army can never be revived. You know that Caoimhe still bears my essence, even if I chose to relinquish my metal shell. Through the magic I wove into Caoimhe, we can join with my siblings and recreate the Crown, should you need the Army." _

_You gasp at this information, amazed by it. The Golden Army is still yours to command! Even as your pulse races, you realise that in studying the Guardian, you have gained the wisdom to accept that declaring war on mankind is not the answer. You understand that there are humans who would rather destroy the earth than relinquish it, though you hope that the vision your lovely wife has provided you is indicative that such evil will one day be conquered by mankind itself. But in the interim, mankind has weapons of such destructive power that none would survive, should you enter into war. You thank your ancient gods for this insight, chilled at the thought of the holocaust you would have unleashed had you followed the plan you have hungered for, for millennia. _

_All the same, the fury that has been your faithful ally in your exile flares through you, together with your old frustration that mankind was not buried in extinction centuries ago. Your father should have been strong enough to finish what he began, when he had mankind on its knees and could have ended the conflict once and for all! You would damn your father, but your shimmering wife puts her fingers to your black lips, silencing you. The expression on her lovely face startles you. It is not one you've ever seen on Caoimhe's sweet face. It is rather a primal bloodlust; a fury mirroring your own._

"_I understand your anger, Nuada," your magical wife bites out, her gaze turning inside. "I shared it. The master goblin goldsmith who forged the Royal Crown pounded his hate and his hunger for vengeance into our red-hot shell with every fall of his hammer. We were born of rage to destroy the world of man. You cannot imagine the pleasure I took in setting the Golden Army onto the humans, my darling prince. Or the fury I felt when your father chose to show mercy, and then dared exile me into the hands of the enemy! You saw this as weakness. I did too, at first, but I quickly learned that I had misjudged Balor."_

_She meets your gaze again, her stern look chastising you. You feel your anger mix with puzzlement. This means you misjudged your royal father as well. How? Calming yourself, you study your wife, seeking the wisdom she gained. You know that you and your father both understand all too well how being willing to commit genocide tears at the soul. You faced that choice millennia ago, and decided that you would bear that guilt, that torment, if only it meant your people were safe. You know that that ripped at your father's soul as well, and that he was strong enough to bear that pain many times over. This isn't what caused him to stop the Golden Army._

_Keeping your frustration from clouding your thoughts, you cock your head. Each time you have challenged your father with this very question, before your exile and more recently, he has held stubbornly to his conviction that elves must act according to their nature, just as humans do. You _hate_ this argument, as it suggests that elfin nature is to hide in shame, to abase yourselves as pathetic pets. You grit your teeth, seeking to understand how this belief absolves your father. _

_What then is elfin nature? To be honourable. Yes, that is at the core of your strength and your devotion to your people. To treat the earth with love and respect, as the great mother of all life – something humans fail to do, with their parking lots and shopping malls. To be devout, unlike the empty humans who have forgotten the gods._

_And then you know! Your father understood that to exterminate another race was to break faith with your gods, and to shame your people in their eyes! In all the long years of your exile, you never once pondered the strength it takes to choose to fade, if staying bright means that you lead your race away from your ancient gods. You suddenly understand that your father wasn't weak when he put the Golden Army to sleep and broke the royal crown, but that he choose to accept the possibility of death with a pure heart rather than condemn your people to a tainted life with the blood of all humans on your collective hands. You shake your head, now understanding that you have been ruled by your warrior's code for too long, blinded to the greater implications of your desire to see your enemy wiped from the earth. Your father was correct in urging you to seek wisdom, to balance your passion._

_Your wife nods, pleased that you have come to this epiphany. She caresses your face adoringly, her anger gone as well. "I chose to give up some of my magic by giving up my physical form," she continues, "because I realised that the Book of Avardal had been found. Nuada, be forewarned: the Book of Avardal contains the means to force the Royal Crown to turn on you, my dearest, and your family. In melting in molten earth, I excised those evil spells, while safely anchoring my true self to my sweet human, out of her love for me. My kin are still vulnerable to that fate: you must guard them very carefully. As you must guard the Book. It holds the knowledge required to activate the myriad spells secreted within us." _

_Your lovely wife pauses. The sadness on her face makes your heart howl. _

"_The goblins that created the Royal Crown of Bethmoora and the Golden Army were not completely honest with your father, my darling prince," your golden wife continues with a sigh. "The spells they hid within us are proof that they desired dominion over the magical world. Perhaps they still do – why else would the Book of Avardal, lost for so long that it was but a legend, suddenly fall into the hands of the enemy? Why else would it whisper to those greedy humans, teaching them the way to enslave your family? Find the goblins behind this act of treason, my love, but view them with mercy. I would also counsel you to involve goblins more in your rule. Give them their voice, their due as the race that once ruled all magical folk. In this way, you may be able to ease their discontent, and heal the rift that must still exist."_

_Again you gasp. Would goblins seek the end of your rule? Could there be such discontent in your kingdom? You will have to study this possibility, and decide how to ensure that all your people are happy. Avardal fell before you were born, but ill will must still be present. You have much to consider!_

_Your lovely wife recalls your attention, kissing you lingeringly. "Caoimhe is the culmination of some of the plans I developed to solve the conflict between Bethmoora and mankind, as is this union between she and you, my darling prince. Together, you and she are two facets of the answer, Nuada, but you will need to calm the warrior within, to ease your instinctive hatred and suspicion, if you are to allow the wheels of justice to turn. As you are beginning to understand, mankind is finally mature enough to peacefully share the earth. You will see the Kingdom of Bethmoora come out of the shadows, I promise you. You have waited thousands of years, dear one: be patient, and wait a little more. Within a handful of short human generations, Bethmoora will stand proud, free to live without fear of humans. Deal with the discontent within the goblins, and it will rise strong and potent, to last all the ages of the earth."_

_Despite your joy at this revelation, your heart is pierced with great pain. Yes, human generations are short to you, and that reminds you that your time with your darling wife will be painfully brief. She will wither and die, despite your best efforts, despite your father's promise to determine how to extend her life. She will age quickly while you do not. Your love for her will never falter, and in watching her age and die, you will die a thousand deaths with her. And then, you will face eternity without her, your heart beating alone._

_Your golden wife strokes your hair back, caressing your face, catching the tears that stand in your eyes. She smiles radiantly at you, understanding clear in her glittering eyes. She leans her forehead against yours, making soothing noises. "Hush, my love. Do not despair. Do you really think that I would create your perfect lover, and gift her to you for only such a brief interlude? For only a golden afternoon, of perfect pleasure? No, Nuada, I raised Caoimhe to be your life's partner, to stand beside you for all the long ages of your life. And here is my wedding gift to you both: as long as Caoimhe bears me, as long as we are not needed to recreate the Crown of Bethmoora and raise the Golden Army, I will keep your soulmate strong. She will age with you, and will have the lifespan of an elf. Your children will have the same long lives and elfin benefits, though Caoimhe's human blood is not to be shunned or denied in your progeny. Together, we will have remarkable children!"_

_Your heart sings with joy at these promises, beating strongly and passionately. Dimly, you feel your beloved human's heart pound as well, and have the sudden sense of her warmth against you, pressed as close to you as she can. She is rapturously happy, dreaming of you even as you dream of her._

"_Go to her, my darling prince. Go to her and love her. Love… us. Trust us, and trust your heart. All will be well, I promise you…" _

The end.

Author's notes

My thanks go again to my wonderful sister, Sylvia Volk, who very generously allowed me to use the names she created, Nightimmering and L'oro Leste. When we were children, she taught me to weave stories, and I am grateful for that gift. Thanks also to all of you for reading this story, and for posting reviews and encouragement. Special thanks to Cyber Keiko for her thoughtful feedback and for discussing story writing and character development with me. Special thanks also to LA Knight for sharing her passion for the world of Nuada and his kin, as well as her insight into their personalities and motivations.

May I commend Gwenfarr for the idea of the magical folk buying lands from humans, and binding them to the Kingdom of Bethmoora by human laws. That is a brilliant solution to the conflict, better than trying to win the land back by war. The idea of using the enemies' psychology and culture against them isn't new, and is beautifully used by Timothy Zahn in "The Thrawn Trilogy" (Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, and the Last Command). The idea of children not taking on their parent's prejudices and hatred can't be new either, though I haven't seen it used in the stories I've read. Finally, the idea that humans find economic incentives to tolerate the magical folk is my own, but I cannot imagine that others haven't thought of it as well.

Special thanks to Gabby (GabhMoLeithsceal) for allowing me to use her breath-taking portrait of Nauda, "Sight Unseen" as the cover image for this story. Your skill and your passion are amazing.

Cheers, Ya Nefer Ma'at.


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